I'm dreaming of a Dry Christmas

28 December 2007, 08:41

8 days. 7 adults. 3 families. 1 toddler. 1 House.

Considering the stats, we didn’t pull up so badly over Christmas. Uncle John accommodated us, McG’s folks and his own daughters in his Newcastle home and with 8 very different personalities zooming around within 4 walls it could have been quite the hothouse, but it was terrific fun. I feel blessed that McG’s family have welcomed me with open arms, but I’m forgetting that, hell, I’m distantly related to them even without being married to McG (sorry)!

Christmas Day was a dry Christmas for me, though. I’d had a particularly dodgy batch of Baileys on Saturday night and thought the violent heave-hoing at 2am on Sunday was a direct consequence of mixing this Baileys with red wine and rum (not in the same glass) but by Christmas Day (Tuesday) I was still sick and the thought of quaffing even a small glass of champagne (Bollinger no less) queased me right up. I couldn’t even face my own Cassata sensation! It was only on Friday, when we were firmly ensconced back in our Melbourne home, that I started to feel better.

Scout sure made up for her mum’s weak-as-piss liver, though – the “poor” mite, who’d had but a skerrick of processed sugar in her short life, had 3 of her grandma’s massive honey biscuits (special recipe), countless (shot) glasses of punch (hopefully not alcoholic, but by the end of lunch it was difficult to tell which carafe was which), pavlova, whipped cream and chocolate santas. No wonder she was ricocheting off the walls.

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