Now is the time for bloggers to write a self-indulgent post about the meaning of Christmas or about how the true meaning has been lost, buried in marketing.
I’ll try to avoid that.
My Christmas is already underway. I have just eaten an illicit prawn baguette – illicit in that the prawns are programmed to be part of this evening’s starter. Fear not, there are sufficient prawns to feed a medium sized army.
The overworked and underpaid Mrs L is at Marks and Spencer, doubtless attempting to prevent the good people of Andover killing each other over the last packet of pigs in blankets “wrapped in apple and chestnut smoked bacon.” I’ll pick her up at the end of the shift and we will swing by to see my Mum, who now lives close by.
Then the beautiful Margaret will start the mammoth task of keeping me fed, starting with a spectacular fish dinner tonight. Tomorrow, Mum will come over, sprouts will be eaten and the Queen will be listened to.
Christmas for us will be filled with great food, British and Italian, plenty of dog walks, laughter and fun. We may even risk a glass of wine or two.
Is that the true meaning of Christmas?
No idea. But I like it.
Whatever you are doing – have a great Christmas.
Thanks for reading.