Christmases are odd things. Those from one’s past tend to be fondly remembered. As we get older they mean less and less and we perhaps see the commercialism of the season and let go of the innocence and magic of Christmas.

Today started with presents for the boys. Treats to eat and two new toys which look like reindeer, made of plastic with rope legs to bite and pull. As L said if they worry them like they do the ducks no one’s shins will survive Christmas unbruised.

Our presents were in the front room around the tree. I’m slowly being converted to God’s Own COuntry and to help with that I got my own flat cap (albeit a training one) and Northumberland cheeses. L and I gave each other new cameras, both from Canon, so all we need now is a holiday to try them out on..

Thinking back I don’t remember Christmas meals as a child. I know we had them but somewhere those memories are lost. Christmas for me seems to start when I was married with catering for the masses for weeks on end and the trauma of cooking course upon course. Latterly it’s been just me and not a lot of point of making a big thing of it. This year I was spoiled rotten and only had to sit down, eat and drink and enjoy what was the best Christmas meal I can remember.

This will always be a Christmas fondly remembered.