Aaaaagh, audible sigh of relief. I like Boxing Day. It means the big day is over for another year, now comes some put your feet up time. Except I made mine head out the door early and clock up a 3.6 km power walk, burning up 142 calories in the process, though I'm not sure that will compensate for yesterday.
What is it with pre Christmas grocery shopping? I mean, how many days are the supermarkets closed? One, one lousy day. There really is no need to stockpile the underground bunker in preparation for an alien invasion or Armageddon, even if the rellies are all heading to your place to eat you out of house and home. And how come my fridge is still full? I thought eight mouths would've demolished a fair bit of tucker yesterday, so does that make me guilty of the same thing? Whipped up a few dishes to feed everyone, that should thin things out.
The MCG curator got to show off how immaculately he can crisscross mow the grass as the Boxing Day Test against Pakistan got underway in Melbourne, the fleet sailed out of Sydney Harbour in a great fanfare for the annual battle down the east coast and across the sometimes treacherous
Bass Strait on its way to Hobart. Line honours have a certain prestige, but when you see just how small some of the yachts are in comparison to the maxis crewed by a cast of thousands, you can't help but respect these mad men and women who pit their skills against the elements.
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