Christmas recaps are boring. We all ate too much, drank too much and then lay around on the sofa. Well i did. But in between the overachieving in the field of gluttony there were a few bright sparks to write down for prosperity.

(..not least when my dad put a bobbin on the wood burning stove and blew out all the stove seals and the chimney with an extremely large bang…)

Anyways, one of these has to be my nephew. Here he is…

Altogether now… awwww

Gorgeous. His mother is my sister and we’ve never been close. Which is something I’ve always been a little disappointed by. Ok, i admit it, and have done many times before on here.. I’m jealous of her. She’s gorgeous, skinny (ok, so am i, but i cant live up to her Kate Moss type looks), has the man, the house, the baby, the money, the life, all that grass is greener shit that you are meant to lust after. …but then she gets drunk and starts calling her husband a cock; a frigid cock… I should be celebrating that all is not well in sister land, but to be honest I’m rather upset.

Be perfect again godammit.

I like my brother in law, i really do, but i don’t like the way my family pussyfoot around him and the baby. Babies have to learn to live, to understand noise, to not be spoilt, but this baby is wrapped up and treasured and mollycoddled to the extreme.

My family are messy, drunk, hilarious people who make a lot of noise and do stupid things.

…. like nobody taking keys when they go to the pub.

And then realising they are going to have to wake aforementioned b-in-law’s (and potentially baby). So what to do? Knocking on our front door is like banging on the door of fortknox. It’s big and loud and metal and you can hear it down the bottom of our garden, so that was out. As was calling through the letter box (we tried that). Then my dad had the bright idea of hosing down the window with his jet washer (just got the carpet wet inside) and then finally we all took turns to try and hit the window with snow balls (pathetic aims the lot of us).

My mother in the meantime was so in fear of the b-in-law’s reaching that she was crouched behind a parked car laughing so hard she pretty much pee’d herself.

… Or, how about the turkey walkabout?

At 5pm on Christmas day, our oven broke.

How come ovens always decide to break on Christmas day?

The turkey still had at least another two hours to go, so panic set in. Phone calls were duly made, and luckily as we were eating rather late (due to our late arrival home) space was found in an oven the other end of the village. My father was duly dispatched with said turkey through the snow, right through the center of the village – to much hilarity from our neighbours.

Of course, in truth, my father had done something stupid (again) as we discovered 30 minutes later when my mother realised that the 2^nd oven was still working. My father in his wisdom had set the timer on the oven and thinking that a turkey takes the same time as a chicken to cook had set this for 2 hours. Dad was duly dispatched to bring the turkey back through the villages to cheers and a good few toasts.

The turkey did not seem to suffer from its walkabout. I shall recommend this approach to Jamie Oliver for his next Christmas special.

There were many more piss your self laughing and brilliant moments…including no one admitting to leaving the car lights on over night…my sister drunkenly saying that jazz music makes her want to rub her nipples (!!)…seeing Macclesfield Town winning 4-1 at the football…dad and B’s farting competition…

But I shall leave you with a few photos of my time at home. Mostly taken in pubs, or whilst under the influence!

Miss S xx

View across the Cheshire plain

Langley

Ed (Bro-in-law brother) and B

Cheeky monkey (and sis and B-in-law)

Cheekier monkey

My mother got lazy on the way home from the pub

B