Christmas is over. Normality is returning. Sobriety is around the corner.
As usual, I went to Hull to see my parents and some of the extended family, for 5 nights. About 1 night too many for me, about 360 nights too short for my mum.
It being time with the family, meant that the television was on much of the time – there is only so much I have to say before I start boring myself let alone everyone else (verbally, anyway). I guess there is something kind of comforting about sitting around together on the off-chance that we can prise my mother away from QVC onto one of the few things we have in common. Like Hull.
Conveniently, Hull City were on Sky so I didn’t have to find excuses as to why I didn’t want to go to the KC Stadium to watch them (I don’t want to give any money to the bastards who own us), and despite going 1-0 down, we came back to win an entertaining game 3-2.
Topping that, my favourite thing we watched was about Hull, called A Northern Soul. A documentary about an ordinary working bloke from Hull, one struggling with the realities of life in Hull (and espousing the reasons that I escaped as soon as I could) but one who has a dream. I won’t ruin it, but it was melancholic, funny and very Hull. You should watch it.
Oh and we watched an early 90’s film called Point Break. About surfers who become bank robbers. You shouldn’t watch it.
Culture in Hull is a major thing, as you will likely understand, so we went to a photography exhibition at the university, about the end of the fishing community in a part of Hull called Hessle Road. Some of the photos are here for the curious, and my favourite is below:
The other thing apart from Hull that we all have in common as a family, is enjoyment of food. And roast dinners.
My mother cooked a banging Christmas dinner. Definitely an 8 out of 10 – the weird frozen parsnips and crappy frozen stuffing balls took the edge off – but perfect roast potatoes, and I mean PERFECT, along with banging gravy (cheers sis) made it an awesome dinner. Alas my mother still hasn’t got the hang of cooking beef, ie longer is not better. And I cooked the Boxing Day meal, though I was disappointed with how my braised beef turned out too.
I received some presents too. I was desperate for socks, and my appetite was sated.
Alas, my grandmother’s idea of good socks isn’t mine. She asked if I liked them – and you know me, I am pretty rubbish at lying. So she told me to give them to my Dad, and I said “OK, I’ll do that”. Cue evil look. Bless her.
I got a couple of great t-shirts too (well, I love them) and the piece de resistance – my mum knitted me a scarf. And it’s actually an awesome design, just the kind of thing I would buy.
Envy is not attractive, my friends.
I couldn’t help thinking about those not as lucky as me. Those without families to spend time with, or those on the streets. I wish there was some kind of over-arching solution that I could enact, to resolve the difficulties of everyone, alas…there isn’t. I’ll just have to settle for a donation to charity, and the knowledge that I made the most of the time with my family. One day I’ll solve all the problems of the world. One day…
As much as I was ready to go back to London by Boxing Day, craving the comforts of a double bed and a shower that is more than a pointless dribble – even if it did mean that I spent 3 hours on Hull Trains feeling like I was a piece of toast under the grill, I think I made the most of the precious time with my wonderful family.
I guess that’s all I have to say. Time to go enjoy my last weekend on the pop until Easter, although not too crazily as I’m really craving doing healthy stuff now. So much so that I’m tempted to stay in on NYE and just have a pie and a bottle of wine – being able to get up the next day and get on with whatever I deem necessary – like moving this shitty Blogger blog to WordPress and the 21st Century.
I hope you had as wonderful a Christmas as myself.
Oh yeah, why did I get 4 bottles of shower gel but no deodorant? What is that about?