Some Sort Of Exercise

The big day arrives... and we could have kicked it off with a parkrun as they always put on extra ones on Christmas Day. However the brutal 9am start is a good reason not to, along with the persuasive argument provided by the several pints of Gorilla that were consumed last night, then there's the weight of dog across my ankles and finally there’s the inviting female body beside me. Best stay in bed me thinks.

Later we open some more presents before heading off to meet my folks for a lunchtime pint in the Admiral Rodney. L walks MD there, chucking balls as they go. The two old men, Doggo and I, take the car.

After a couple of drinks we head back home for Christmas lunch where Daughter awaits and Son and his girlfriend soon join us.

Some juggling and oven rotation is always required for cooking large meals and this year even more so as we also have a veggie option to cook but I think we pull it off.

Its Stilton pate to start, then goose and\or Quorn substitute with Sage and Onion stuffing for main. This is my first attempt at Sage and Onion, as I usually make the stuffing with sausage meat, but it seems to be a success. L has done homemade Christmas Pudding and Apple Crumble for afters.

Naturally once the dinner is all done we all sit around not quite knowing what to with ourselves, as is the way on Christmas Day.

Son is on a bit of a tour, having spent last night and this morning at his father’s. He had intended to stay over with us tonight before heading to his girlfriend’s parent’s in Stoke in the morning. However, in the end the pull of a longer lie-in if they go to Stoke this evening prevails and they leave us early evening. They leave armed with full squash and badminton sets as his gf is desperate to get him involved in some sort of exercise. We wish her every success. 

(Sunday 25^th December)

The Big Day Arrives

The big day arrives. To some it’s just another Saturday in June but no. Not only is it the midpoint of Glastonbury, it’s the midpoint of Wimbledon and bizarrely the midpoint of the year, in that it’s exactly six months from/to Christmas. Freaky, scary even. If all these significant events have coincided at the same time it can only mean one thing. It must be Daughter’s eighteenth birthday.

The countdown has been going on for some time, approximately the last four years, so you must have noticed. I’m surprised they haven’t got one of those big clocks in Trafalgar Square counting down. Well they have, but it’s for the Olympics, that thing you can’t get tickets for.

Subsequently our Saturday lie-in is truncated, although it’s not all Daughter’s fault. True, L is up and baking birthday cake but I’m berating Student Finance England over the phone and that is no one’s fault but their own, for being crap, again.

At lunch we assemble the family hoards and invade a local hostelry that doubles as a Thai restaurant. Daughter goes to the off licence on the way to try out her ID.

The restaurant is a compromise. Daughter wanted Chinese but L’s not keen on Chinese. Daughter’s not keen on Thai but we’re paying, so Thai it is. Personally I don’t think there’s much difference between the two but here at least I can get a pint.

It all goes well. The family depart, Daughter heads for home to meet some friends for part two, so L and I amble back, stopping for another beer on the way.

Then Daughter hits the town, on her first night of freedom and we hope that she isn’t too late home, along with L she has a 8am train to catch tomorrow. We go to bed early, shattered. Daughter tumbles in at 2.45am and wakes us both up, which works out better than it might have. I'll thank her later.

(Saturday 25th June)