Once you pop...

From our respective beds this morning, my sister and I sent each other close-up pictures of our faces, by way of a Christmas greeting. She identified correctly that we have the same nose. Well, if you can’t be silly at Christmas in a year where half the country has already clinically cracked up, when can you.

A breakfast of champions consisting of strawberry Pop Tarts. Before I arrived my sister had deposited a massive bag of junk food with my parents which I was instructed to tuck into immediately on arrival. She’d bought it when she thought I had a five-day window instead of one. This meant there was lots to get through. Pop Tarts were one of the delicious goodies. At one point I wondered whether I had Covid as I couldn’t smell the Pop Tart as I ate it. Then I realised this was due to the lack of natural ingredients in Pop Tarts as I can smell coffee, sprouts, chocolate and Chester’s dog breath completely normally.

The day was largely spent peeling sprouts, walking around the muddy lanes, doing quizzes and stuffing ourselves silly on a great roast dinner. As in previous years, Chester the dog proved surprisingly effective (and savage) at unwrapping presents, even when wearing reindeer antlers.