3: Abba say Happy New Year

Greetings Bloggers, and Happy New Year!

I have to ask for forgiveness for neglecting you, I promise not to do it again. Pinky promise.

So, what’s new with me? Three things.

1.     I have been bereaved. Of the two rabbits that my flatmates smuggled into our halls, only one is now surviving. The other, dead as… a dead rabbit. Squished. Squashed. A dented demise. I shan’t beat about the bushy tail: Bella killed Pedro. (She sat on the plastic platform while Pedro was attempting to burrow beneath it. Our forensic analysis tells us from the lack of blood around the mouth it was likely a collapsed lung, or the destruction of a magic force-field). However, the amusing consequence of this is that the resident of Room B was unable to attend her date for the evening and the poor gentleman was sent away from our door with Pedro’s coffin under his arm with the task of finding somewhere other than the communal bins to dispose the body.

2.     Santa Baby spoiled me this year. These gifts include an electric blanket, a plastic showercap in the shape of a mouse, a knit-your-own-ninja kit, and (drum roll please hamster band!) my very own, brand spanking new purple sewing machine! I have yet to get it out or attempt to produce anything with it, I’m waiting for my trusted domestic goddess best friend to come round and break me in.

3.     I am now living in 2012! I had a Titantic themed new year, involving dressing up as various passengers and the iceburg, saving soft toys from imminent death in the icy carpet-sea, building structures out of sugar cubes, and, of course, classic karaoke from the 1910’s including ‘In da Club’, ‘My Humps’ and ‘Mama Mia’. We brought in the New Year with champagne, dancing and fireworks. By fireworks I mean we watched the spectacular fireworks above the London Eye on the television at the same time as watching our own ‘indoor’ fireworks (which were buy-one-get-one free as EU law changes have meant the most dangerous ones have had to be removed from the packet). Unfortunately, the expanding-poo effect and ensuing smog has meant we have made my mother’s boyfriend promise to never buy them again.