Christmas , miss much?

Well, no. Christmas in Caerphilly, South Wales, goes pretty much like this- arrive Christmas Eve, drink two cans of cider (after usual greetings to GSG siblings), collapse on sofa, feel groggy with cider and snotty cold (yuk yuk), big fat tabby cat belonging to sibling jumps on chest, cough-cough. Oh it's Christmas Day! Presents exchanged (dvds, chocolates), Snowballs drank (2), dinner eaten in determined fashion, more coughing and choking, blood vessels in nose expanding, turkey very nice, trifle even better (very soft on throat). Any more details needed? Oh mad relatives visited on Christmas Day afternoon (seriously bonkers, us gin people are a bit cracked; it's in the blood), and on the day after Boxing Day we visit an out of the way pub in some God forsaken part of south Wales, don't ask me where, which my father insists on. To make myself feel slightly less tuberculer, and to innoculate myself againt the London smog, I eat a generous portion of garlic chicken. Then it's off back to London. You know smelly and hostile as it is, I'm actually glad to get here. Next 3 days spent in horizontal position.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!