The excessive festive recess started with a Soho reunion: old friends, cards and kisses, secret Santa tat and drunken frolics. It’s a Yuletide tradition of our own making. The next day, Liam and I had a parting of the Christmas ways, he to his folks, me to little sis. ‘Twas the season to be separated when love and duty called. Supermum sis cooked up an all-the-trimmings banquet for a small tribe. The ten ton turkey was the size of an ostrich and took two of her strong lads to haul the big bird into the oven. Plates were perched on every surface and piled high with just-right tastiness. I don’t how she does it. There was just one minor fly in the ointment. A kitchen frisk uncovered a sprout-less cupboard. Trifling recriminations were muttered over the sink, but it suited me just fine, not least because it avoided a windy afternoon with my old mother bringing up the rear. As usual, I didn’t lift a finger. My sister never lets me. I always offer, honestly I do, but my pleas fall on dismissive ears. She always makes me feel like a treasured guest. Brimming glasses of wine appeared from nowhere and a hot water bottle was slipped into my pit while my back was turned. Liam joined the fray on Boxing Day, sporting an elf hat and dragging his bulging sack of filthy goodies from Ann Summers. ‘Rude and Lewd’ could be our family motto and Liam raised the tone with willy-wares, booby prizes and lick-me-quick licentiousness. I could show you the photographs but I fear a call to Social Services might be the outcome. Priceless.
You have an amazing sister! All that food! I didn’t know Ann Summers was still going… remember the big “stir” it caused when it first came on the scene many moons ago! PS I absolutely hate Brussels sprouts!! Argh. They were always the worst thing about Christmas dinner, for me!
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I hear you. Sprouts – yuk! Yes, Miss Summers is very high street these days. There’s money in muck!
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. . do you still fondley (sic) recall those days when there were toys in the stocking as opposed to accessories?
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I always got accessories – that’s where I went wrong.
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Did Liam have to knit “willy-wares” (or is that willy-wears?) and booby prizes while you were in a non -Ann Summers country
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Why do you think we kept popping back to London? 😉
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So, is Ann Summers like an upscale sexy shop, or am I way off and way too American here….?
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You’re spot on!
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