The Christmas Diaries 2018 | Day Four

Dear Diary,

It’s Christmas Day! 25th December; Jesus’s day of birth, my day of hooking myself up to an intravenous drip of prosecco, gravy and double cream.

Merry Christmas one and all; it’s the most wonderful day of the year apparently, but I beg to differ. It’s expensive, to begin with. I relished it as a child; a shit load of toys and being fussed over, and all I had to do in return was go to Asda with my dad where he’d give me £2, a pound to spend on each parent. I’d buy them shower gel, or some Radox, and that was that. Life was good back then. Didn’t have to worry about a water bill or contraception back then either, or how inflation is affecting the cost of a wholemeal loaf.

Nowadays, it’s a different story. People who I have no inclination to spend my hard earned money on suddenly pop up on 21st December, informing me ‘I must see you to give you your present!’. My present? What fucking present? I don’t want you buying me a present, Judith, woman who lives 4 doors down and I now have to add you onto my list of the other 102 people I need to go into my overdraft to buy last minute presents for on a mad dash in M&S.

I have been blessed with parents (well, a mum – my dad just sees the money come out the joint account) that are very good at gifting, and I always come out being very spoilt (this just fuels my guilt that I was a little cunt between the ages of 13 and 18 even more).

I awoke this morning at 5am, like I was 8 years old again wondering if I’d get my Candyfloss Making Machine. Reader, I did receive this, and my mum banned me from using it without her. She awoke at 3am one morning to find me sitting cross legged in the hallway, surrounded by sugar, and candyfloss in my fair.

I mainly woke at this ungodly hour because I was wondering if the money grabbing twunts (yes, twunts is a word) that are EDF Energy are going to whack me with a 2 grand bill again in January just for turning my radiator on twice.

After that, I couldn’t seem to get back to sleep, and text my mum from the other room asking if she was awake. Mum took this with excitement, thinking the child in me couldn’t wait to get up and delve into my stocking. In reality, I was wondering what the likelihood of having to live off Pot Noodles was next month, and if I was going to spend 48 minutes on hold listening to Beethoven, to then get through to a woman called Karen whereby we will have a screaming row over the fact I’ve been charged £2,459.76 just because I want my home to be slightly warmer than 1 degree.

After present exchanging took place, I pasted 9 layers of makeup on to look less like I’d been dug up out of the ground and left to decompose in the sweltering sun whilst being eaten by maggots, and the drinking then began.

I am not one to help on Christmas Day, unfortunately for my family. I never have been. I’ve never hosted Christmas, because let’s face it, I’m not going to have enough baking trays, or things that functioning adults have like ladles, or a masher for the swede. I buy ready made, microwave mashed potato in Sainsbury’s for £1.49. That’s how my life is.

Instead of helping, I normally swan about, a prosecco flute in hand that’s never more than half empty, scavenging bits of roast dinner as they’re brought out the oven, scornfully judging other people’s roast potato quality on Instagram like I’m John fucking Terode in the Masterchef Semi Final.

As we sat down to indulge in our lovingly crafted Christmas Dinner, I accidentally knocked my mums prosecco over her entire plate of food whilst getting rather vigorous with a Christmas cracker.

A soothing, calming playlist consisting of The Pogues and James Bay was lightly tinkling away in the background, but I don’t think my dad had realised I’d got my claws into his Apple Music account, so the remainder of our family lunch was overshadowed by me rapping to Blazin Squad and Plan B. I think Crossroads is an appropriate song for all manner of occasions, don’t you?

Another discovery today is that general knowledge quizzes are not accurately named; the questions in those quizzes are not general knowledge. Who generally knows which highly corrosive mineral acid is also known as aqua fortis? Who generally knows how many crowned monarchs there were in the House of Tudor? Who actually generally knows this shit? It’s bollocks. General knowledge quizzes should contain questions like, ‘Which UK supermarket can you find the best gammon joint in?’ or ‘How much is the toll charge at the Dartford Crossing?’. That is general knowledge. No one fucking knows what King Edward II was doing in 1634. No one.

Anyway, I’m off to drink more prosecco than is probably good for me, eat even more cheesecake, slob out, and have a bloody good time.

Merry Christmas one and all.

Speak tomorrow.

All my love BGP xx

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