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Dec. 24th, 2004 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolGrandad is here and railing against me for chipped cups and lord knows what else. All this said, I'm oddly glad he's here. I've dissected my schizoid relationship with my grandparents before so now is now the time to discuss it, but yes, I am glad that he and Nan are here. They have bought presents, fruit (y'know, to stave off scurvy or something in the vast wilderness of Oop North) and a turkey that is BIGGER than my HEAD. It weighs SEVENTEEN POUNDS and oh god it's going to be turkey until New Years Day.
Anyway, both he and El Mother are in this room, smoking and drinking out of mugs and discussing cars. I felt a little out of place ("I know its name but I'll be damned if I can remember the numberplate") so I am concentrating on this.
Today, after my badly edited picture-post, I went out and got soaking in the scary world that is Christmas shopping and nearly killed an old lady to try and find some chocolate for Dad. Gahgahgah. The trauma! But now it is all sorted and under the tree. My uncle Chris (local Lancashire councillor for Labour, doncha know) turned up and I nabbed him for media. He looked terrified, although I was frank in my explanation.
"We don't talk a lot, as a family. Evidently, it's hereditary. But you're in politics! So help me!"
Andrew turned up around one, after pathetically informing me via the phone "I'm hungover, I have no money, no credit on my phone AND MY KEYS ARE INSIDE." He came around and I made him bacon butties while I did the ironing to try and get the house tidy in the unsual frantic Christmas manner. He also came beaqring 'Maskerade' which I am half way through reading for sanity after sitting through far too many soaps. Fingers crossed, I have more books coming my way tomorrow. If not, I will cry. And then spend the inevitable book vouchers on Boxing Day. Mwaha.
Hmmm. Not feeling Christmassy but is likely to snow tomorrow apparently. I wish! The house smells of pork (traditional late night sandwich on Christmas Eve) and stuffing. And Dad has just walked through the door. Good night and god bless...
~Hathy_Col~
Anyway, both he and El Mother are in this room, smoking and drinking out of mugs and discussing cars. I felt a little out of place ("I know its name but I'll be damned if I can remember the numberplate") so I am concentrating on this.
Today, after my badly edited picture-post, I went out and got soaking in the scary world that is Christmas shopping and nearly killed an old lady to try and find some chocolate for Dad. Gahgahgah. The trauma! But now it is all sorted and under the tree. My uncle Chris (local Lancashire councillor for Labour, doncha know) turned up and I nabbed him for media. He looked terrified, although I was frank in my explanation.
"We don't talk a lot, as a family. Evidently, it's hereditary. But you're in politics! So help me!"
Andrew turned up around one, after pathetically informing me via the phone "I'm hungover, I have no money, no credit on my phone AND MY KEYS ARE INSIDE." He came around and I made him bacon butties while I did the ironing to try and get the house tidy in the unsual frantic Christmas manner. He also came beaqring 'Maskerade' which I am half way through reading for sanity after sitting through far too many soaps. Fingers crossed, I have more books coming my way tomorrow. If not, I will cry. And then spend the inevitable book vouchers on Boxing Day. Mwaha.
Hmmm. Not feeling Christmassy but is likely to snow tomorrow apparently. I wish! The house smells of pork (traditional late night sandwich on Christmas Eve) and stuffing. And Dad has just walked through the door. Good night and god bless...
~Hathy_Col~
