Christmas comes but once a year…

…but tins of chocolates go on for ever. Not that we’re complaining, of course. Our tin of Roses (or, as it’s made of plastic, maybe we should call it ‘our plastic of Roses’) looks set to last at least until Boxing Day. Maybe we’re losing our knack when it comes to epic choccy chomping. In that case, we must do more training throughout the year. Now that’s what I call a win-win situation πŸ™‚

Today though, we had a selection of biscuits and cheese for lunch (including Wensleydale and cranberry), a Stollen loaf (not a stolen loaf, lol), and a chicken casserole at late afternoon, which is our usual time for the main meal of the day. This year, we figured, we could have different food but why change our times around just for one day of the year, especially when it’s only for us two plus the cat? Result: much less kitchen-related stress. Now if we could find a way to serve it all up on paper plates it would really cut down the dishwashing too. Gravy and paper plates though? Not a good combination.

TV highlight of the day was Doctor Who, and this year’s Christmas special was much better than we’ve seen in recent years.

But one of the funniest things of the day concerned Ma and Pa Waffle, who live thirty-odd miles away in the multicultural hamlet of Boston-on-Sea, just downwind from Skegness. One of our presents to them (one of Shana’s lucky finds) was Pirate Pete, the talking parrot. The senior wafflers (Pa Waffle, by the way, is called Peter πŸ™‚ ) phoned during lunch to express their unbounded joy at receiving this talkative bird. Now at least they each have someone sensible to talk to.


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