I spoke to my French colleague today and she told me that it took her 3 hours door-to-door to get from her house in England to her house in France.
Well, on Christmas Eve, it took me 10 hours – 4 of those stuck between Grantham and Retford.
A joyous start to Christmas, but it was good to be back home, until my mother put on a church choir singing programme and I wished I was back on that train. Things improved when we watched Caravan TV, which included the process for building a caravan. Sky – 1,000 channels of shite.
Christmas Day was predictably pleasant. I should start by thanking Mary and Moses for having sex 2,016 years ago, leading to this celebration of shopping.
I had some cracking gifts, including some new handkerchiefs and some pants. I also got a bar of soap on a rope to keep under my bed until I move out. Very soon hopefully.
One gift that was particularly impressive was this designer ring:
I’ve never had a ring before. Do you think it suits me? I’d be interested in your thoughts.
I should also mention that I am getting a tour of Westminster. I have no idea why I have never been bought this gift before. I do have quite some sister.
Speaking of which, I introduced her to cricket on Boxing Day. I believe that she is now a big fan and that we are going to a 20/20 game in 2020. Or maybe even in 2016.
We went to watch the football as a family. I had planned on backing Hull City to win 3-0 but because the train was delayed by 4 hours, I decided that was a sign that we would win 4-0 so I backed 4-0. We won 3-0 with a shot agonisingly close at the end of injury time to make it 4. My heart hasn’t beat that fast since I was chased by fire-fighters as a teenager.
I was even allowed to cook the Boxing Day roast dinner. My family were suitably impressed…the stuffing was particularly sensational.
Christmas was definitely good.
I successfully spent lots of money and ate far too much food. Jesus would approve.