Dr Who Christmas Special

I was ashamed of my brother and sister this morning. Mum wasn’t well, visibly so, and neither of them lifted a finger to help her. Kiera sulked, stropped and guilted Mum into letting her open presents before Dad arrived. Matt came downstairs, mumbled a bit, and went back upstairs. I wrapped gifts with Mum, and wondered how the kids had gotten away with it for so long. Dad breezed in, grumpy, changed the TV channel and promptly fell asleep. I was pleased when Kirsty and Nick got there to offer a voice of sanity.

My favourite gift was this Dark Knight bubblebath. I can’t wait to clean up the streets of Bath-am City!



Later Mum called for a chair as she was cooking Christmas dinner. “I feel faint,” she said, “and kind of sick.” I took over the cooking, and sent her to sit down. It wasn’t a difficult meal to finish, as the hard work – preparing the veg, putting in the meat – had already been done. It was just a case of juggling the roasted veg around the ovens to crisp its edges and making sure nothing bubbled over or went too chewy. I tried to spice up the sprouts with chopped chorizo, but – novelty value aside – it wasn’t that successful.

Around the table sat Kirsty and Nick, Dad, Matt and Kiera, and me. Dad wolfed his dinner down, like he wished it was over before it had started. I felt sad because we just don’t connect now, and more so because it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. We pulled crackers. I was very happy to get a bulldog clip in my cracker; it’s my favourite item of stationery.

I decamped to the Fitzpatrick’s to hook up with Lewis and Ange. Roger and Jenny were, as ever, consummate hosts. We played Guitar Hero, then Lewis and I sloped off to go and watch the Doctor Who Christmas special. It was brilliant! Finally, I trooped up Brickhill Road to Owen’s for a spot of supper and to give Lenny his gift. He was very, very, very happy with his car. Can you tell?