At The End of a Perfect Day

His Lordship is a man with a little boy of about ten trapped inside determined to escape at Christmas. How else could one explain being roused at 7:30 this morning by HL in a flashing Santa hat telling me that Santa had paid a visit to the Dower House and could I possibly get up to see what was in the enormous stocking* hanging at the back door.

Santa had ensured the stocking was all mine but had (fortunately!) left behind a small box of goodies for HL. I think we each got more pleasure from watching the other one wrestling with sellotape and exclaiming over each new find.
And so, eventually,  the fun was put on hold while the serious business of putting the festive fare on the table began.

The turkey was cooking nicely and the Queen was just about to start her speech when David and Luca arrived.Thereafter the day became a blur of drink, food,  more drink and lying about watching other people dancing and baking on the television.
We have never been a family who played charades or games of any sort on Christmas Day, although in the back of my mind there were several Christmases in my childhood with my grandmother when we played some game when we were rewarded with old pennies out of a big purse.

The young ones departed eventually, after they thought they would be capable of negotiating their way home, leaving HL and me to deal with the remains of a happy day.

* the sack