Nooooooooooooooooooooooo! Nooooooooooo! Don't say it. Don't say it please, don't say it . . .

Yeah!

Sitting here, happily uploading photos onto website when the phone rang.  #1 who is off school again tomorrow was told to go fetch the phone (one of the advantages of owning kids).  Off he trots, hands it to me and he sits back down to Himself and they go back to watching mythbusters.  This is what they heard:

Phone.  burbleburbleburble

Me.      No.  Don't say it.  

Phone.  burbleburbleburble

Me.      Nooooo.   Please don't.  You don't understand.

Phone.  burbleburbleburble

Me.      But I planned it all, Please, no.  No.

Cue Darren and Harry crying out 'What's wrong?' etc.  The cries got more frantic the more I wailed 'no, no, no'.

So, the actual conversation:

Phone.  Hello Mrs. Geraghty?  This is Gary from Superquinn.

Me.      No.  Don't say it.  

Phone. Yes, I'm afraid a decision has been made to cance . . 

Me.      Nooooo.   Please don't.  You don't understand.

Phone.  I'm sure you understand.  What with the weather and everything we've decided we have to cancel all           Christmas deliveries.

Me.      But I planned it all, Please, no.  No.

Now?

Me:  FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.  

I spent ages sorting that sodding list out.  Spent ages going through my shopping list removing all the sausage rolls that somehow ended up in it.  Buggery, buggery duck.

Happy sodding Christmas.