The worst thing that happened on Christmas Day was that my mum bought the pictured massive grapefruit instead of a honeydew melon, and so the planned starter for Christmas dinner had to be reconsidered. Small beef really.
Dad spent most of the afternoon being as curmudgeonly as ever, in between bouts of dozing. The Private Eye Annual went down very well with Dad. He was about to go off on a rant about Madeline McCann's parents at one stage, which the Eye diffused.
My often runny-nosed niece Ashleigh thought that Boggle was pronouced Bogle. Sorry Ashleigh, but it's not.
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