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Hey, this is the archive section. Pick a year, pick a month, have a nosey.Shortie
Apparently I will blog
17-12-2009I am currently trying to do the usual thing that happens around this time of year – i.e. cram an entire months work into the next three days before we break for the happy occasion that is Christmas. Yes there might be some sarcasm in there somewhere if you look really really hard. Don't get me wrong, I love an extended break of work as much as the next person, coupled with copious amounts of wine drinking and the perfect excuse to eat your weight in mince pies and quality street. It is the lead up to Christmas I am not really a fan off. The last-minute rush to get the last few presents that you knew you still had to get weeks ago but you just didn’t bother, the endless queues, the lack of decent value in the shops here, the desire to get the ‘i-just-threw-this-on-a few-minutes-before-i-left-the-house-but-dont-i-look-so-skinny-and-effortlessly-chic’ dress, the panic after the shops close on Christmas eve that you might have forgotten someone and so on and so forth.
Christmas eve is one of my favorite days and is in our house is a bit of a timeless tradition at this stage and after all the ups and downs that tend to come with all family’s I still love spending this time of year with my nearest and dearest. It starts off with everyone arriving home late in the afternoon on Christmas eve, several cups of tea and a lot of catching up later it’s time for midnight mass (although I don’t know why my folks still insist on calling it that considering it kicks off at 9pm these days) some carol singing and hello’s to distant friends I might not have seen since this time last year and then to the local pub. Not for a mad session or anything before I explain it all wrong.
Every Christmas eve the locals from my small town descend on the local pub, friends and family home from far-flung shores, those from just around the corner, those home only for the holidays and those that are there all year round. Every year, for as long as I can remember my family and I have sat in the same table on Christmas eve, the one by the fire. A drink is always bought for us by the landlord and my dad will always regale us with tales from when we were younger and some of the idiotic things we did that entertained our parents no end. I have heard these stories, as have my siblings and most of the pubs cliental a thousand times and more. Yet I never tire of them, I love watching my mum and dad enjoy reliving those little things, the way they laugh before they have even told the punch line, besides it’s tradition. The night never goes on too long, and usually ends with a stroll home in the bitterly cold air, merrily singing some festive tunes.
The following day is, I am sure, the same in our house as most households, someone always wakes much to early and feels the need to get everyone else up, time to open presents, sneaking some chocolate from the selection boxes before dinner, complaints that we have to eat ‘at least one brussels sprout’, a gorging of turkey with all the trimmings followed by crashing on the sofa, a re run movie on the tv and the mince pies within arms reach. It’s no wonder my ‘i-just-threw-this-on-a few-minutes-before-i-left-the-house-but-dont-i-look-so-skinny-and-effortlessly-chic’ dress ends up gathering dust in the closet as it wont even zip up. Some year I will learn – not to cut the eating and drinking down to the amount suitable for someone of my stature – but to always buy a festive dress one size up!
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