Guten morgen Frauen. I am back after a traumatic Xmas day at my in-laws, which featured a dinner not a bit festive or delicious, sadly - so in that sense, remarkably similar to our scampering fake ‘rona pixie.
We had something that I think might have been a duck, once. Or a pair of Nicks trainers. It had obviously had a very long and hard life, not made any easier by having been ended by a cook only marginally less cackhanded than JM. I’m still chewing on the memory of it now.
Never mind, as the dessert was next. Christmas pudding (homemade by me) for those who wanted it, and the promise of a delicious M&S chocolate dessert for those who didn’t (there were three none Xmas pud takers, me included). MIL decided not to open it as she wanted to keep it all for herself, so we were treated instead to some stale fairy cakes with icing that had clearly been prepared before Mafeking. Delicious.
Sister in law got hideously drunk and, for the second or third time, proceeded to let me know I’d never really be family until I’d given birth. What to, I’m still unclear on.
Anyway, I had a good cry in the shower when we got in, and thankfully we don’t have to see her again for the foreseeable as we’re in Tier 4 now. Never been more glad to be home.