- Joined
- May 22, 2012
So, how do people cope with the gilded cage that is Christmas Day? I kept a 24-hour diary this year.
Dunover's Dismal Diary of Despair 25/12/19
09:00 Wake up have the first coffee, feed cats and prepare for the kids' grand present opening. Tidy up wrapping, sit in lounge stopping cats from attacking the Xmas tree for an hour.
10:00 Not too bad yet, cats like the piles of wrapping paper on the floor rather than anything else.
10:30 Time to check the state of affairs for food, most of the prepping done last night anyway, missus prepares the table.
11:00 Mother in law turns up on doorstep. This is where it starts going downhill. Check the dishes of chocs, liquorice allsorts, wine gums and peanuts are filled. Missus' friend pops round, make myself scarce despite the fact I can hear her anyway whichever room I am in.
12:00 Check on meat, get veg on while ever other bugger dosses about stuffing down chocs and generally enjoying themselves, which makes me more miserable.
13:00 Grub's up, all cooked by me by the way, as the missus struggles with even a microwave meal. Compliments to the chef blah blah, same shit as last year. I can finally doss about in lounge while everyone else clears up and washes and dries. My only reward for 6 hours of kitchen work over last 2 days.
14:15 All retired to lounge, and missus gets her mother in from the doorstep. Small argument about turning up the heating to 15c ensues but I can't be arsed so 15c it is.
14:30 The adults' present opening ensues. I go to bathroom, place a couple of wooden cocktail sticks across the inside of my mouth to see if I can conjure up a rictus smile. When done with feigning sursprise I go out for a fag. Missus wonders where I've been when I reappear 10 minutes later. Tell her loudly I've been tidying garage putting this year's Meguars Alloy Wheel cleaner next to the 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015 bottles in date order along with the car wax, sponges and shampoo. Get glared at when nobody's looking.
14:45 They are all in kitchen making coffee and I let rip in the lounge as it's the first chance I've had. They troop back in with the coffees and the missus gives me the evils but says nothing. This is the bit I dread - any time now the TV could go on and that pair of gibbering cretins could well appear, breaking me psychologically. Luckily they all chat but continue the same fucking stupid inter-generational conversation as last year, "Cooo doesn't she look like you Daz" and someone else pipes up "No, looks more like her mum I reckon..."
Unlucky for her.
15:30 So after hearing for the umpteenth time that X has got the same eyes as Great Uncle Jack or Y has the same nose as Great Granny Ermintrude I just want to scream "FUCK-OFF ALL OF YOU, JUST FUCK OFF!!"
But I sit staring vacantly at the huge piles of presents we bought people thinking how many Bonanza bonus rounds I could have had instead. I try and stay out of the facile conversation buzzing around me and to doze off, but no luck there.
16:45 Am climbing the walls with boredom now. There's no bloody escape, no football on, no nothing. I am very nearly in a catatonic state through torpor, am hot, full-up and am counting down the hours until bedtime.
17:00 Of course, it's the sodding Buffet at 18:00. The in-laws and missus do all that traditionally and get on with preparing it desite the fact that most of us feel like Mr. Creosote before he takes on that last chocolate.
18:00 Grubs up! So having given up telling the missus it's far too much each year, I get my plate and take one small sausage roll, a slice of ham and a few grapes. 18:45 95% of it is still left, and now the bastard fridge is going to be rammed with the stuff on clingfilmed plates for the next 4 days. Fucking brilliant.
19:00 Buffet's cleared away, I am in lounge reading on my Kindle. Now I know the TV is going on for sure. I'm yawning continuously and still the buggers won't leave, missus keeps offering them coffees and drinks just to spite me.
20:00 The guests finally have all pissed-off home and now comes the worst battle of the day. Seriously weakened by the combined effects of the previous hours, I know what is due me....
20:10 ....yep, sure as eggs is eggs, the TV is going on. I am now going to be force-fed Phlegmerdale, Abomination Street and even worse that terrible 'Call the Bloody Midwife' crap.
I say to the missus, who loves the latter snot-snivel fest, "Look, why watch it? You know the story will be some kids being born into poor houses, whereupon some previously despised local businessman will come in at the last minute and save their Christmases with an uncharacteristic cot buying spree, all will be rosy at the end and the old narrating Nun will drone on about some kind of godly munificence aspect to it all while you all weep uncontrollably" Get a grip woman!
I'm now getting the silent treatment.
21:15 I am close to mental breakdown. I revisit the garage and get an extension lead, then wander round the garden with a torch to see if any of the bare tree branches would take my weight. They are all spindly and thin though, so settle for a quick fag and go back inside.
23:00 Missus decides she's going up to bed, a glimmer of hope. I lie down on the sofa and find some documentary on TV about some ancient Egyptian temples I once visited. It'll soon be Boxing Day, sport will be back and hopefully they'll all go out spending their Christmas vouchers and money in the sales and leave me to it.
Santa, you're a frigging pain mate.
Dunover's Dismal Diary of Despair 25/12/19
09:00 Wake up have the first coffee, feed cats and prepare for the kids' grand present opening. Tidy up wrapping, sit in lounge stopping cats from attacking the Xmas tree for an hour.
10:00 Not too bad yet, cats like the piles of wrapping paper on the floor rather than anything else.
10:30 Time to check the state of affairs for food, most of the prepping done last night anyway, missus prepares the table.
11:00 Mother in law turns up on doorstep. This is where it starts going downhill. Check the dishes of chocs, liquorice allsorts, wine gums and peanuts are filled. Missus' friend pops round, make myself scarce despite the fact I can hear her anyway whichever room I am in.
12:00 Check on meat, get veg on while ever other bugger dosses about stuffing down chocs and generally enjoying themselves, which makes me more miserable.
13:00 Grub's up, all cooked by me by the way, as the missus struggles with even a microwave meal. Compliments to the chef blah blah, same shit as last year. I can finally doss about in lounge while everyone else clears up and washes and dries. My only reward for 6 hours of kitchen work over last 2 days.
14:15 All retired to lounge, and missus gets her mother in from the doorstep. Small argument about turning up the heating to 15c ensues but I can't be arsed so 15c it is.
14:30 The adults' present opening ensues. I go to bathroom, place a couple of wooden cocktail sticks across the inside of my mouth to see if I can conjure up a rictus smile. When done with feigning sursprise I go out for a fag. Missus wonders where I've been when I reappear 10 minutes later. Tell her loudly I've been tidying garage putting this year's Meguars Alloy Wheel cleaner next to the 2018, 2017, 2016 and 2015 bottles in date order along with the car wax, sponges and shampoo. Get glared at when nobody's looking.
14:45 They are all in kitchen making coffee and I let rip in the lounge as it's the first chance I've had. They troop back in with the coffees and the missus gives me the evils but says nothing. This is the bit I dread - any time now the TV could go on and that pair of gibbering cretins could well appear, breaking me psychologically. Luckily they all chat but continue the same fucking stupid inter-generational conversation as last year, "Cooo doesn't she look like you Daz" and someone else pipes up "No, looks more like her mum I reckon..."
Unlucky for her.
15:30 So after hearing for the umpteenth time that X has got the same eyes as Great Uncle Jack or Y has the same nose as Great Granny Ermintrude I just want to scream "FUCK-OFF ALL OF YOU, JUST FUCK OFF!!"
But I sit staring vacantly at the huge piles of presents we bought people thinking how many Bonanza bonus rounds I could have had instead. I try and stay out of the facile conversation buzzing around me and to doze off, but no luck there.
16:45 Am climbing the walls with boredom now. There's no bloody escape, no football on, no nothing. I am very nearly in a catatonic state through torpor, am hot, full-up and am counting down the hours until bedtime.
17:00 Of course, it's the sodding Buffet at 18:00. The in-laws and missus do all that traditionally and get on with preparing it desite the fact that most of us feel like Mr. Creosote before he takes on that last chocolate.
18:00 Grubs up! So having given up telling the missus it's far too much each year, I get my plate and take one small sausage roll, a slice of ham and a few grapes. 18:45 95% of it is still left, and now the bastard fridge is going to be rammed with the stuff on clingfilmed plates for the next 4 days. Fucking brilliant.
19:00 Buffet's cleared away, I am in lounge reading on my Kindle. Now I know the TV is going on for sure. I'm yawning continuously and still the buggers won't leave, missus keeps offering them coffees and drinks just to spite me.
20:00 The guests finally have all pissed-off home and now comes the worst battle of the day. Seriously weakened by the combined effects of the previous hours, I know what is due me....
20:10 ....yep, sure as eggs is eggs, the TV is going on. I am now going to be force-fed Phlegmerdale, Abomination Street and even worse that terrible 'Call the Bloody Midwife' crap.
I say to the missus, who loves the latter snot-snivel fest, "Look, why watch it? You know the story will be some kids being born into poor houses, whereupon some previously despised local businessman will come in at the last minute and save their Christmases with an uncharacteristic cot buying spree, all will be rosy at the end and the old narrating Nun will drone on about some kind of godly munificence aspect to it all while you all weep uncontrollably" Get a grip woman!
I'm now getting the silent treatment.
21:15 I am close to mental breakdown. I revisit the garage and get an extension lead, then wander round the garden with a torch to see if any of the bare tree branches would take my weight. They are all spindly and thin though, so settle for a quick fag and go back inside.
23:00 Missus decides she's going up to bed, a glimmer of hope. I lie down on the sofa and find some documentary on TV about some ancient Egyptian temples I once visited. It'll soon be Boxing Day, sport will be back and hopefully they'll all go out spending their Christmas vouchers and money in the sales and leave me to it.
Santa, you're a frigging pain mate.
