It’s the most wonderful time of the year.
So today is Boxing Day and, as the title would suggest, I awoke with a hangover. Not the “I drank too much and made a tit out of myself in front of my family” hangover (Thank God). This was more of an “I ate far too much at lunch, yet proceeded to continue eating all the food for the rest of the day, and then ate more until I ended up curled on the sofa at the end of the night in pain, watching Gary Barlow beat the crap out of Mr Blobby and wondering what the hell happened” kind of hangover.
I feel like, with his, I have had the whole Christmas experience in that I have been victim to every type of Hangover. From the food induced, people induced, and of course alcohol induced. I have over indulged this December, therefore I should probably go on a Detox from all of these things for January. It’s the healthiest thing to do.
My sister and I came back to spend Christmas with my parents this weekend, and it’s like we were never away. Despite me being 25, it’s amazing how so much remains unchanged from when we were kids. We wake up in the morning (though I am now less inclined to wake up at the crack of dawn and jump on my parents bed demanding presents), and head downstairs to our piles of presents. I take my place on the floor, in the same spot I have sat year in and year out. This is then followed by “the grown-ups” sorting out lunch whilst my sister and I are kept entertained by numerous Disney and/or Christmas films. It’s like being a Kid again.
Christmas is a time to eat, drink, and be merry,therefore the law states that once Midday hits, it’s time to grab a beer from the fridge. Now on any other day of the year, this would be a fairly straightforward and relatively safe task to complete, right? Not on Christmas day, as this involves having to enter the war zone known as: The Kitchen. No matter how skilled one is at cooking, there is a lot riding on The Christmas Meal, which therefore causes the blood pressure of whomever is designated family chef for the day to skyrocket and for tensions to shoot through the roof. This year, as it is more or less every year we have Christmas at home, taking on the multiple roles of Gordon Ramsey and all his kitchen staff, was my Dad.
Walking into my Dad’s kitchen on Christmas day is essentially like walking into a tiny cage, with a wild tiger, except worse. I tiptoe in, the steam rises and obscures my vision. I tread carefully, because one false move and it’s all over.
Also it hardly helped matters when 5 minutes ago, my Mum came downstairs and said out loud “Why can I smell burning?” WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? Don’t anger the beast, have you not heard of kitchen etiquette? She scored more points the previous evening, after complaining the cold dead Turkey carcass smelt funny, and was worried it had gone off. This fear was settled by us all shoving our heads up the birds arse to smell it, where it was determined that it was in fact the Turkey’s feet (Spoiler alert: It didn’t kill us in the end, Hooray).
Anyway, burning and dead bird feet smells aside, once again we can all trust our designated family chef to deliver, and boy did my Dad deliver. I was done, that was my weekly food intake sorted after the meal. Although, it would be rude of me not to say yes to a portion o pudding my Granddad made and brought round for us. It would also be rude of me not to bring down the chocolates my Sister brought, to share with the family (after Mum made plenty less-than-subtle hints). It would also be rude of me not take tear off a piece of Turkey every time I walked past it (hey, it’s what it’s there for). It would also be rude of me not to have another drink, and maybe have a mince-pie. We just got back from a Christmas walk, therefore it would be rude of me not to put more food in the oven, it would be rude of me not to set out the cheese board I brought just before midnight on Christmas Eve, Eve. It would be rude of me to let any speck of food go to waste, and oh god my stomach hurts so much, what have I done?
We ended the night in front of the T.V, to watch all the festive specials that work hard to truly embody the spirit of Christmas. The Bake Off Special has the charm, the Doctor Who special is sugar-coated fun, the Strictly Come Dancing is most likely alcohol fuelled, and the Eastenders special covers the boring/depressing/upsetting/disappointing/murderous/car crashing/divorce-paper giving side of Christmas (Although saying that, from what I’ve heard this years special was relatively cheerful…which naturally everyone has complained about. HOW DARE AN EASTENDERS CHRISTMAS SPECIAL BE HAPPY, WE DEMAND BLOOD!).
We watch this schlock every year, but we love it because it’s Christmas, even if they were all filmed back in July under the blistering sun. The shows usually hide this factor well, although I think the Queen delivering her speech from a beach hut in Brighton, wearing a bikini and eating a 99 might have given the game away slightly.
Of course, it would be remiss of me to indicate that the excessive consumption of food and drink is what Christmas is all about. We consume in excess to celebrate, and for me it was a reflection of how much I wanted to celebrate that which is most important to me: Family. Given all that my family have done for me this year, it makes it all the more special to come together and spend the entire day in celebration together.
We ate, we drank, and we were merry. However now that Christmas has come to an end, it’s time to detox. Back to the gym for me, back to healthy eating, and most definitely back to reducing my alcohol intake, now festivities are over.
Piece of cake. I mean not like there’s a big event coming up, in less than a weeks time, to signalise the start of a new year, where we drink to excess anyway, but given how horrendous this year has been, we will all have no choice but to drink so much that 2016 becomes nothing more than a drunken dream, and we can start again with 2017.
Yup…lucky that nothing like that…is happening…in less than a weeks time…
Oh well…Time to Drink the year away.
Hope everyone had a Very Merry Christmas, bring on the new year!
P.S: I counted about 5 times yesterday where my Mum said to me “Hey, that’s one for your blog!”