Christmas Eve take away with good friends (year 3 of our 'tradition'), a little more frantic than usual given broken arm, us hosting Christmas and working Christmas Eve. Pickle woke at 4.30 (lost Lumpy) and 5.30 (weeeee Mummy) and failed to notice Father Christmas had been. Stockings were exciting, about 6ish followed by breakfast and a few pressies, a chat with Grandma on the webcam and then waiting for my husband's family to arrive. Christmas Day felt reasonably fraught - everyone tired and a frustrated cook in the kitchen - but on reflection was nice (did I mention I was given tickets to see Rupert Penryn Jones at the Royal Theatre?).
Boxing Day almost a repeat but throw in 2 more nephews and their parents and its double the fun. Pickle and Wotsit much happier for the company. I managed to elicit tears from my mother in law with my home made Christmas Crackers complete with personal limericks!
Evening of the 27th, half the party departed, spent the evening (I say evening, I was in bed by 9.30)reading one of my new books 'An exact replica of a figment of my imagination' by Elizabeth McCracken. I'm finding it quite good at explaining how I feel sometimes, most pertinently "It's a happy life and someone is missing' - think the key there is that it's not 'but someone is missing' rather 'and someone is missing'. (Love you Monkey).
Tonight, we are home alone. Content and tired. I'm getting my computer fix, Top Gear is quietly annoying me (just too ridiculous) and we're spinning out the anticipation of watching Gavin and Stacey on bbci...