It’s that most marvellous day of the year. Boxing Day. The day every adult prefers to Christmas Day. It’s a whole 365 days to go until next year.
Woohoo. The madness is over, no more frantic preparations. No more lists, shopping trips, guilt trips... Enjoy this moment. Savour it people.
Christmas Day is gone for another whole year, Santa’s back in Lapland and January is on its way. Suits me, I like the blues. We’ll be able to go into a shop without being assaulted by Paul McCartney’s Pipes of Peace and there will be clothes to buy that don’t make us look like something from Quality Street: The Musical.
So relax, because today is the day you don’t have to shop or cook, unless you under-catered yesterday like me. I had taken my cue from Youngest Child and cooked the Christmas dinner she suggested last week at tea-time.
“Salmon, roast potatoes, a veg and a bit of salad. This is the best meal, a top tea,” she said, as ever seated at the table before her brothers. “Even better than your fish pie. Let’s have it for Christmas dinner. Can I have more than the boys please?”
“No you can’t,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t want turkey and brussels sprouts and chipolatas. Stuffing and carrots and gravy and ...?”
“Yeah, yeah. No one likes your Christmas dinners.”
“Oh. OK. Well that’s fine because I don’t like cooking it.”
“Good. Suits everyone then. But we do like your delicious trifle, so you could make that.”
So that’s what we did. In the spirit of Christmas I made two trifles, one with lashings of sherry for me and the BoyF, one without for the picky.
And the best bit is today there will be no leftovers for turkey soup or stir fry. We’ll probably have to order a takeaway, yay! There may be family happenings of a non-virtual nature, conversations, a walk maybe, possibly, whisper it… charades.
But before all that I’m going to enjoy waving goodbye to Christmas.
Right after I’ve written my cards.