Twas the Holiday season

Driving home for Christmas. A little different when it's a whip down the Euston Road, over the West London flyovers and through Kensington and Chelsea. But wonderful all the same when Santa's sleigh arrives at your door on Christmas Eve, a little brother at the reigns, so that all the goodies can be delivered without a single venture below ground.

Without question my favourite Eve of the year - roast number one was at the cousins with lots of family and distinguished friends. Us kids on christmas eve then asked Pops for a lift to Wimble Village for a festive tipple, tied up with an obligatory chorus of birthday greetings for the one who made it all possible.

Christmas morning, bright and early - no lie ins for this lot. First stop, a Gini walk - another of my festive highlights. Wellies on to wish passers by a Merry Christmas (worrying inwardly that you have suddenly adopted the behaviours of Marianne Dashwood)

High time for stockings, nibbles and a few presents. Followed by the arrival of all three grandparents. Then moving on to the moment everyone spends 52 weeks waiting for - perfectly situated right in the middle of the three-day holiday season. State of postprandial somlonence achieved, all individuals retreat to the safety of sofas to stare vacuously at any images put before them. Intermittently contemplating whether to flick through new books, but aware that being full up to the top as you are, your bread-sauce brain may not play ball.

More presents, and I'm ashamed slash proud to say more food - lobsters on a bed of salad - super festive. And of course more telly. Before all booze-fed Christmas-pudding bellies are dragged upstairs for the best night's sleep they'll have all year.

Merry (belated) Christmas x

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