Over the last few months and years I’ve occasionally mentioned about the anti-social church up the road which wakes me early on a Sunday morning. The god-botherers woke me again with their bell. At 11.55pm last night. They were clanging the thing at midnight. And then just as I was dozing off again, “Daddies Little Angel TM ” texted me to tell me the god-botherers were clanging their bell…
I’ve never been able to sleep on Xmas morning – the excitement is always too much for me. As a child I was always woken by my Grandmother at about 3am on Xmas morning. I think it must be something genetic. So I was up at 5am. Writing a letter to the chokey, making rude crossword puzzles and watching telly. Waiting for everyone else to get out of their pits. In previous years I’ve given them until 9am, and then I’ve gone round the house clanging saucepans together. This year everyone was awake at 8.30am. We’d had an early morning phone call – one of “My Boy TM ” ‘s mates (an ex-cub) had gotten himself arrested last night for being drunk and disorderly in
Whilst waiting for the tribe to assemble, we watched “Mr Hankey the Christmas Poo”, and then once the family were finally gathered together we had a major pressie opening session. I did all right, with several DVDs, a couple of gallons of decent ale and a couple of bottles of port. To say nothing of the socks, sweeties and theatre ticket. Oh – and the obligatory liquorice allsorts from the mother in law. Every Xmas since 1983 she’s got me a box of them. I wish she wouldn’t. I hate the things.
The plan was to be on the way to my brother’s house by 10am. At 10.30 “My Boy TM ” was cooking bacon sandwiches for everyone and the girls still weren’t dressed. We eventually set sail at 11am. Only an hour late.
Two days ago there was snow. I was *so* hoping for a white Xmas this year, but no luck. We soon arrived in