So today is Christmas Day. Yes, it’s Christmas Day in our house. The dinner our eldest son and his family should have had on December 25th was postponed due to the Rona. However, Sam, Leon and Kelly are now fully Rona’d and I’m half Rona’d. We can meet indoors, and now it’s time to go for it. The table is all set as you can see below, with crackers and serviettes that I had bought back in early December. The Christmas pud is still within its sell-by date, even though I’m without by about forty years.
There has been some dispute over whether the whole Christmas tree kit and caboodle should be brought down from the loft and erected in our front room. I can hardly bear seeing the thing in December, let alone when the sun is shining in the middle of June. Tempers have become short, especially as I have to spend most of the day in the kitchen, which is not my favourite place to be. Sam is currently digging the flowerbeds to get all his aggression out before the visitors arrive, and peace is now reigning supreme. The Christmas tree has remained in the loft (where a Christmas tree needs to be at any time of the year), the beef is in the oven, all the veggies are prepared, and I have an hour to catch up on social media.
This is it for me today. I have to turn the computer off soon and forget that I’m a writer. Today I have to be a cook, a cleaner, a genial hostess, Mum, Grandmother, and the matriarch of an ever-expanding dynasty. It’s okay to be the last four, but it ain’t much fun being the first two as I’m not very nice to know when I have to slave over a hot oven. Never mind, it’s Christmas Day so peace be to all mankind, especially in a semi-detached house in Suffolk where an artificial tree sits sulking in the loft.
See you all again after work tomorrow…