Dominic the donkey...

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Christmas is going to be a tough one for me this year.

For the first time in 52 years, Miss R and I will not be spending Christmas Day together.  This is because she is cycling across Vietnam as I write, having another one of her adventures.  These usually involve pain and a bike which is why I leave her to it, but this year, she won't be back until after Christmas Day.

It's a daunting thought, because usually, the two of us always conjure up the Christmas lunch together.  If we're at her's, I sort the place settings and spuds, and I help with the washing up, whereas when she's at mine, there's always daft games and extra After Eights, and she and the Mother always do the washing up while I lie prostrate on the sofa like a stuck pig.

So this year, I'm on my own.  While she strokes elephants, I'll have my hand up a turkey's backside, and while she is wondering whether her sun cream is strong enough, I'll be debating as to whether my thick thermal drawers are suitable attire under my Christmas frock.  

I'm going to take a leaf out of her book this year, and start drinking sometime between the stockings and putting the turkey in the oven.  That way, any sadness at not having her by my side will evaporate in a small pink cloud of Prosecco with any luck.  The trouble is, I won't have her to giggle with, or play Pie Face with, or sing Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey with.  

Luckily, my sister in law, Mrs W will be staying here over the Christmas period, so I am shifting all the responsibility over to her to help me make Christmas Day go with a bang.  She will be a brilliant Miss R substitute, and I reckon that once I have got her up and running with the lyrics of Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey, she'll be just perfect...

Come on....join in...






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