It’s joy, it’s full, it’s everything...it’s Christmas.
Breakfast sun and toasted cheese and a cup of tea. The ovens on and family messages. Asparagus, carrots, zucchini, potatoes and beans, oh and red onions. And all that meat. Cooked perfectly. Under cooked. Just cooked. Over cooked. Done and done. And piles of food and family and visitors and champagne drinks and gin and tonic.
More plates of food and cups of tea and laughter under the old peppercorn tree (or at least underneath the place where it used to be.)
A game of cards and taking a teenager for a spin on their newly minted L plates. A walk in the park with the dogs. Half an hour of some crap old movie. One more pile of dishes, move the tables, sweep the floor...one more cup of tea and an Aunty Dot’s biscuit, just squeezed them in, just.
And then bed. Surely. Bed.
Yes. Bed. And a merry, merry Christmas.
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