We Survive Boxing Day with Aplomb

Boxing day almost done and dusted. Check.

I have the full complement of children, one of whom (Oscar) has sung the word ‘Arse’ in varying volumes and tones all the way home from granny’s house, which was unfortunately so very funny that it reduced the entire family to hysterical giggles and only encouraged him.  Except when Jason tried to record him on the iPhone when he promptly announced that he was a broken robot and was too dead to say ‘arse’ any more. Tsk.

They are currently all squabbling in the shower about what they are going to play in the shower.  By the time they have decided this it will be time to get out of the shower, or blood will have been shed, in which case they will be frog marched out of the shower.  All is back to normal.

The day at granny’s was nice. This was despite  UE turning up with the children two hours late on his way to South Africa to help build a hospital.  I have no idea what has come over him.  Not the two hours late thing. This is totally normal (or indeed two hours early), the building the hospital thing is puzzling though.  He is not known for gestures of largesse or charitable works.  Nor is he known for his DIY skills.  In fact the only time I have ever known him attempt anything remotely handy was when he was persuaded into helping me paint the kitchen in our first house, thirteen years ago.  He chose a yellow which looked like it was freshly squeezed from a dog’s bladder and it took us all day to paint something so horrible we could no longer face entering the room and had to paint over it the following day.

After that he never did anything else he could pay someone else to do, which meant I ended up paying workmen £200 to build me Ikea furniture which he purchased but refused to put up.  I could not put it up I hasten to add, due to being heavily pregnant and crap.  He didn’t even really do lightbulbs.  So my advice would be to avoid all areas of obscure South African hospitals which look like they have been put up by my ex-husband should you ever had the misfortune to be admitted there if you are visiting.

While he wended his way to the land of good works, we have eaten large amounts of outstanding beef, rather good lamb and ‘meh’ ham.  We have  exchanged more presents.  My brother bought all the children those wheelie devices which you stick to your shoes which turn them into heelies.  When he eventually gets around to spawning children I will be buying them all full size drum kits and Fenders.  I have also promised him that he will be the first person I call on the way to A&E with the casualties.  He remains unconcerned.  He sees it as his duty to provide thoroughly unsuitable presents for all his nieces and nephews, a job he embraces with delight.  I will bide my time.  Revenge, as we all know, is a dish best eaten cold.

I got the Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook, which I am very excited about, and one of my major projects for the new year is to master the Red Velvet cupcakes.  I also received the most gorgeous vintage Chinese ragdoll family, which I will take photos of later, and a Bridgewater Christmas mug.  Lovely.

Once Oscar is in bed we will gather for the most serious and important part of the Christmas festivities, watching Doctor Who.  We nearly cracked and watched it without the children last night, but some sense of solidarity prevented us and we have waited.  I am in two minds. I want to watch it, and yet I am convinced it is going to be heartrending, miserable and what’s more, it will be another week until I can watch the conclusion of the heart rending misery.  I am going to hunt down some tissues and prepare to watch through my fingers.

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