Christmas is super. Really it is - especially when it's celebrated the Liner way because that is the only way I know how. I especially love the "Liner Family Traditions" - things we did yesterday and called them traditions so that our guests believed that these things are things we do every year, religiously.
Like yesterday we did the traditional Liner Family lighting of the Christmas pudding. When I tried to pour myself a fourth glass of champagne during this time and steal away for a cigarette, I was remonstrated by The Father: "Come on, Pant. It's tradition! And it's bad luck to miss The Lighting.". Last year, we had Nigella's chocolate mousse pots. Unlit.
And last night, after the children were in bed, we did another Liner Family tradition: we played 30 Seconds. Earlier yesterday, this particular game had been wrapped in Christmas paper with The Sil's name on it. And yesterday marks the first time a Liner has ever owned the game. Tradition? I think not.
30 Seconds was followed by the Pant and her brother having their traditional glass of port. It's the second time I've ever had a port. The first time was with Larry. In his house. In the middle of winter.
And last year, it was tradition for the children to get the prezzies in their stockings on Boxing Day. This year we had no stockings.
I love Christmas traditions. They're usually such fresh ideas.
But one thing's a dead cert for Christmas Day - we laugh with and love the people we're with because they are our people. And that's why, at times, I found yesterday a little tough. Sure, I was with The Daughter (she counts for 99% of my peopleage) and everyone else who really matters: The Parents, The Brothers, The Sil and The Neblings.
But there was, without doubt, a Larry-sized hole in my day. And it made me sad.
Christmas is (traditionally) a time to be with the ones you love. And unfortunately this love thing doesn't have an on\off switch. Because if it did, hell, I'd have got it 100% right.
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