Bring it on!


Well, it’s Sunday night and I’m sat here with a warming glass of Remy Cognac and all is well with the world.

All the presents are wrapped. The cards are all written, and gone, although the last few looked like a spider having a fit in an inkwell rather than actual handwriting, but there you go. The shopping is done, barring a trip to the farm on Tuesday to collect the turkey and a trip to the co-op for a couple of odds and ends that I forgot (and we probably won’t need). The house is clean and tidy, the tree is twinkling, the fire is burning.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow . . .

I *am* a cliche . . . but I’m enjoying the rare luxury of a Christmas at home, not having to charge up and down the country visiting relatives. Sure, we’ve got family coming to us on either side of Christmas, but it’s all pretty informal and it’s all organised (barring some baking of mince pies, sausage rolls and such), so I’m all unstressed by the whole business.

It probably helps that t’o-m does the actual roast on Christmas day . . . I’ll produce good meals x 3 daily, but he is chef par excellence when it comes to the Sunday roast, and enjoys the cooking, so I’ve happily handed all responsibility to him. All I have to be is fabulous, darling, and manage croissants and champagne for breakfast. I think I can cope with that . . .


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