onlyemma's Diaryland Diary
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I'm not eating any more pudding until I've had a poo.
Merry Christmas!
So it�s Boxing Day, and therefore my greeting is belated but I mean it all the same. Glad tidings! I hope you�ve all had good Christmases; and I also hope I�m not the only one whose breakfast today was a bowl of trifle and a handful of Malteasers.
I made my way home from Golders Green two days ago (I have the biggest room, by the way. We kind of raffled it off like toiletries at a church Bring & Buy - all we really needed was my dad shouting, "three-two-seven! Thelma! Come and collect your basket of soaps!"), and I�m so happy to be home I still can�t quite believe I�m here.
Yesterday, being Christmas Day, involved the usual events of going to church in the morning, belting out all of the carols as if we were town criers, and coming home for a dinner with our uncle and his girlfriend. The dinner was a success and I like to think my sausages wrapped in bacon were the piece de r�sistance, even though I heard my mum slagging them off on the phone. However everyone was happy, and the proof is in the pudding; and saying that, I would�ve made a bloody brilliant pudding if I�d be asked to do that too. We had a great day. My parents did me proud as usual, and even wrapped me up a bottle of Cherryade and put it under the tree. It was fantastic (though not quite the same without the additives), and I�ll be shaking it up and cracking it open on New Years Eve when everyone else is slugging down their pale, less exciting-looking drinks.
But now it�s Boxing Day, and Boxing Day is one of my favourite days as it is always the day to slob about (which is the day my family also practices for when there�s a weekend marathon of crime dramas on). Traditionally, it�s the day to have a very un-strenuous walk (up the street, round the back and home again) where the act of putting on our coats actually takes longer than the walk itself; and then we like to slob about again and make a significant dent in the selection boxes.
During this morning�s Boxing Day slob, we surprised ourselves by watching something about Susan Boyle and crying, and no one had even had a drink (or watched Britain�s Got Talent). And since we�ve also finished our tour of the neighbours� front gardens, the collective aim is to finish all of yesterday�s left-overs as adventurously as possible, sleep, and watch the 70 hours of TV that my dad has recorded over the last month or so, as some sort of family endurance test.
It would definitely be safe to say that this year more than any has been the main year to relax and eat, and relax and eat some more, and then eat some more; and I�m grateful for it as my dinners back in London have mainly been toast and custard-cream �based. But to be honest, I have developed a measuring stick for these types of things over the last few years and I said this when I went to New York and I�ll say it again... You can always determine that you�ve had a truly good holiday, if it ends with a box of laxatives.
And on that note, Kate�s en route to an incredible new year .
5:19 p.m. - 2009-12-26
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