My Dad told me recently that Christmas lunch is at my house this year. Which is fine. I am 42 years old but that’s how families work. Isn’t it? Please say yes.
Anyhow, with Christmas commencing mere days after school finishes, I need to shake a leg. And the thing with my DAd is after he tells you that you are hosting Christmas lunch, he then invites any Christmas lunch orphans that he runs into between now and then.
I don’t at all have a problem with that, after all SH and I have been Christmas orphans ourselves. The problem is that he forgets to tell me. Until Christmas. Christmas Day. And then he says “oh I told you that Xyz might be coming didn’t I?”
Uh, no Dad you didn’t. And he is always sure he did. And then he happily toddles off to pour himself a Pimms.
Well, not only did I happen to find the remnants of an old Ironstone dinner set that I really like, it’s unusually shaped dinner plates mean I can squeeze many peeps around the table. Plus it works nicely with my plain
chipped white plates. And I reckon it has a festive kinda feel.