Yes, yes I know it’s a little late in the day, indeed the year, to be reminiscing about the Yuletide experience but they say time is a great healer ……..

It’s Boxing Day, 7-45 pm, the first chance to sit, relax and reflect, since 23^rd of October that is …….

Monday 17^th Dec.

Long, long day at work but all fun and festive.

Tuesday 18^th  Dec.

Similar feel, but client base suddenly realise that not only Christmas but also New Year is upon us! They flick through their collective diaries pondering dinner parties various, I keep mine close to my creative chest as the words ‘Sorry I’m already booked ‘ trip from my tongue with consummate ease. It felt good.

Wednesday 19^th Dec.

Stars I & II break for hols, so it’s a half-day complete with 9 little friends in tow for a Christmas party lunch. A seating plan crisis is only averted by two of them coming down with the plague. Still, managed to convince three 10/11 year olds that it is still cool to eat carrot and cucumber sticks with pizza, then watched in awe as the healthy eating plan was replaced with a feeding frenzy of all things festive and chocolate, ah bless.  Two dear HM s happily polished off a bottle of Chablis and four boxes of M & S party food.  Success!!

Thursday  20^th Dec. 

Work – status quo continued . Then off to the panto – ‘The Wizard of Oz ‘ - accompanied by five  friends and their offspring and freezing fog. First such outing for Star II, after several abortive attempts at cinematic  entertainment, where his penchant for running up and down the aisle repeatedly introducing himself to the unfortunates situated at the end necessitated  many a speedy evacuation from Spielberg’s’ lair.  However, this time, just as boredom thresholds were reached, the scenery was changed amid much applause from Star II, and no one else at that particular point ……… Anyway all good stuff to be repeated .

Friday 21^st Dec.   

8.00 am – 8.30. pm, mega day.  Husband has full control of the children and the ‘booze cruise‘, all without the aid of a safety net.

Saturday 22nd Dec.

Work 8.30 – 4.00 then decide, in a fit of pique, to tackle  the food part of Christmas and take Mum who requires ‘a few bits’. We don full battle dress, pads and pit helmets (albeit festively), and  bravely march into the consumptive mouth of hell  that is our local  Tesco…….to find it……..all but empty and, even more remarkable, fully stocked! In a determined attempt to be less wasteful, I only get what I really need.  As the guy at the checkout worked his way through a year’s worth of loyalty  vouchers  we got chatting about the amount of produce that they have to throw away each week just from that single store. Came away feeling guilty and sick, perfect start to the Christmas weekend!

Sunday 23^rd Dec.

Friends come for lunch, have a fab time.

Monday - Christmas Eve .

Husband elects to play golf and from 7.30 a.m. is in the ‘golf zone‘.

“Sandra, have you seen my golf shoes? What shall I wear? Is it cold or not? Does this look alright?“

 “Yeah great.“  Wasn’t really paying attention due to the preparation of family breakfast, clothing etc in an attempt to get to the shops early – ish. Still I’m sure in certain lights a  pale lavender jumper would look fab with dark green trousers.

Having lost the ability, due to the excitement of the impending game, to shut wardrobe doors and turn taps off,  the husband disappears from our lives much like a rock from Goliath’s sling.  I assemble Stars I & II and, fearing an apocalyptic shop in local cathedral city, read them the rules of engagement and festive riot act. Then set off for that much loved Christmas Eve tradition of picking up the turkey and other components of the feast, from M & S.

All fears are completely unfounded, we park really easily, the shops are pleasantly quiet and the palace of Earl Grey, milk shakes and buns is nothing short of heaven! Relaxation is mine at last.

Star I has taken being ‘man of the house‘ for the morning to his heart and decides to take personal control of the Yuletide food: one turkey, one ham and two garnish packs. Despite their combined weight being nearly half a tonne he manfully attempts to carry them back to the car via the ‘olive man‘ in the market.   The short journey is punctuated by me saying “Really, love, let me carry it now.”

And by him saying, ”Blimey this is heavy," and continually dropping said load to the ground every couple of metres or so. Still no harm done, I‘m sure it all looked beautiful when it went in the box.

With husband’s tipsy return only serving to send excitement levels into orbit, we prepare the Santa snack  - mince pie and port – and throw the reindeer food – oats with glitter in it to you and I – onto the patio; and they race to their beds with a heady mixture of anticipation and fear. “Will Santa REALLY come into our house Mum?”

Accompanied by a little glass of something I set to and create a set of Santa footprints from hearth across the rug with the aid of some self-raising flour. Illusion complete.

Christmas Day .

 6.30: ”HAPPY CHRISTMAS MUM AND DAD!”

“That’s flour Mum.“

 “No darling, Santa’s footprints.”

“Yeah right.“

Amid much tearing of expensive  and non–recyclable paper there were heartfelt “OH WOW THANKS!” They were dead chuffed bless them. Beautiful, just beautiful.

Having prepped the veg the night before, I break the seal on the turkey and read the instructions.

Cook for 2 hrs 40 mins. You fat lazy bitch make more effort next year. We’ve even cooked the ham for you for God’s sake!  If you muck this up you really must be thick!    This isn’t just any insult, this is an M&S festive guilt insult with extra venom.

A last minute, panic-stricken once-over with the ‘Mr. Sheen‘ heralded the arrival of the immaculate in–laws, who immediately demanded to know the whereabouts of the turkey.

“Strangely enough it’s in the oven.”

It was duly inspected and, as the oven door was snapped shut, declared predictably inferior. Fortunately the satisfaction gleaned by the reinstatement of my ‘black sheep’ status meant that they missed the horrific state of the oven door, permanently scarred by an exploding toffee and apple tart courtesy of Jamie Oliver. Got away with that one.

More lovely presents ensued. By the time the dropped and bashed turkey and ham were arranged on the plates it had taken up the appearance of road-kill with gravy, and nothing short of a flame thrower would induce the pudding into ignition.

Post-gluttony the Christmas scene resembled something out of ‘Cocoon’, both grandfathers slumped in open-mouthed slumber, while the grandmothers swapped stories on how to care for their unwell spouses, bless them. Old age is not much fun it would seem. Sensing a suicide pact pending I decide there’s only one thing for it …..   “Baileys with ice, ladies?”

It is one of the many Christmas products you have to buy in order to make festive life complete. However, in reality, it is a vile drink.  It’s creaminess slides over your tongue making it take on the quality of a cheap carpet while the harsh spirit content forges on to play havoc with your imminent ulcer.

Anyway, Grandma Inc. knocked it back with gusto and giggled their way through until home beckoned, much goodwill to all men.  With Stars I & II exhausted and happy in bed and husband in a port-induced coma on the sofa, I settled down  ………. to a pile of washing up.   Sorted.