Christmas at chez rich

yeah, sorry. But due to the brief(ish) pause in my inane rambling there is going to be some retrospective blogging. The timeline may get a little confused. Consider yourself in irregular orbit around a black hole, wandering back and forth across the event horizon. Or not as the case may be.

So earlier in the year my Pa and his good lady Anna were staying. And we had a few medicinal beers. And the subject of Christmas came up. "why not have Christmas at chez rich" says I. "I can cook Christmas diner, Phil, Sue & the child devils can come up, It will be great". At this point let me make it clear, I have no intention of this actually happening. Its a really bad idea. Someone will point this out. Someone will stop this dead in its tracks. Alas & alack. Never, I repeat never, make assumptions about the intelligence of others. Ok, maybe my family are not dumb. Maybe they just hate me. But, against all odds they decided that Christmas at chez rich was a good idea. Oh you pitiful fools.

Well, it was great to see them come, and great to see them go, it was just the bit in the middle...

Actually, lets be honest, I loved it. The kids were great (well, as children massively high on santa induced adrenalin overload can be) and monkeys dad gave me a spare telly so I could banish them & their new Wii to the party room. Anna did most of the cooking & I took all of the glory. My Bro spent an entire day tring to construct a lego batmobile & failed miserably (ho ho ho). Once again I bought my sister in law underwear & once again she refused to model it for me.

I bought the kids ukelele's, mainly to accelerate my brothers hair loss. And I gave Matt a jar of pickled sprouts, which he somehow forgot to take with him. No worries, they keep, I can give them to him again next year.