The Anti Christmas

3 Dec

What a difference a year makes.

Last year, I was merrily shopping away with then-boyfriend, spending money and having to hide presents in the boot of the car as this was the only place that was safe from the nosy boy. i couldn’t guarantee, as he was at home, prolonging the student life before getting a job, that he wouldn’t rummage through the two flats we lived in together, ruining all the surprises.

Christmas Day was spent with my grandparents, as every year, and Harry was forced to be part of our family traditions; no presents till everyone was awake and dressed, granddads schnapps (if you are ever offered it, politely decline. its foul), and the goose. Mmmmmm, goose.

So twelve eventful months on and I find myself single, and preparing, for the first time, for little Tinker and I to spend our third Christmas in our whole lives, at home (well, her second). We have made the decision not to go to the coast until Boxing Day, and do something a bit different. Dad will spend it with his wife’s family, and so its just you and me kid.

She has nicknamed it the anti Christmas, in light of it being totally different from any normal Christmas we would have. God knows why, but i think it has a bit of a ring to it, and we are excited to be doing lots of things we have never done before. I’m strangely looking forward to it. Early night on Christmas Eve will be replaced with drinking with some of my favourite people in town, getting dressed and opening presents will be replaced with being hungover, spending the day in our pjs, and Bridge Over the River Kwai will be replaced with Elf.

The cats will get Christmas hats, we may have trifle for breakfast, and we definitely wont brush our hair. Result!

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