Little family Christmas

There are many advantages to having Christmas on a day other than Christmas. The shops are still open so you can pop out if you forgot to get, say, coffee or dessert. They’re still open when you come home with said coffee and dessert only to discover there’s no milk.
Christmas paraphernalia is reduced if you’re so inclined, there’s no Mass to be dragged to* (maybe there is but there are no draggers) and there’s no need to worry about battling hordes of frantic shoppers to purchase a present the recipient will take one look at before determining it was bought in the blind panic of Christmas frenzy.
We decided to have our own little Christmas celebration today, because it is, of course, little Christmas, the day when three kings allegedly showed up to give the baby Jaysus presents he neither wanted nor needed, thus setting the tone for the giving of Christmas presents forever more.
Not that I give a rat’s ass for the three kings, fine fellows though I’m sure they were. A little Christmas sounds just right for a little family, and we are our own little family now, so we should do our own little family stuff, with rules we break as soon as they’re made. More importantly, a little Christmas sounds a helluva lot less stressful than a real one.
Well, it wasn’t without stress. Someone (not me) decided to have a shite of Chernobyl proportions in the middle of Christmas dinner, forcing a mass evacuation from the table. I reckon it was a cunning ploy to get straight to the presents after he’d been cleaned up. Not that he gave a shite about them, ironically enough, but at least wrapping paper provides fun. (Jenny got him a sleigh. Cue the third warmest winter in the last 100 years with not even a hint of snow.) My own presents are still in the post (I’ve heard that before) so I’ve been given presents of mind. But then again it’s not about the presents. Nor is it about the past. The future? Who knows? When it’s not Christmas, it can be anything you want it to be.

*I should clarify, on behalf of my dad who was highly insulted at the implication that he dragged anyone to any Mass, that we were not, in fact, dragged to any Mass when we were in Ireland, but went of our own free will. It may have been to see Santa, and he mightn’t have shown up, but that's another story altogether.


  1. were yous in ireland on real christmas?

    oh and...

    iiiit's hairdresser tiiiiime!

  2. I know, I know, I know! It's gone beyond ridiculous at this stage. I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause now.

    Yep, we went back for the puddin' - can't get it on the continent as far as I can tell.


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