Time Warp

By the time you read this, Christmas will be a dim and distant memory. A time when you ate your own body weight in turkey, your bank balance took a pounding and granny choked on a mince pie. You want to move on, I get that, but now, as I write (on 30 Dec), I've got nothing else to talk about! So forgive me.

We (Anna, my wife and I), were driving back to the UK to spend the season of goodwill with family. To break up the monotonous journey, we had decided to stop off in Le Mans. And if you haven't been, I thoroughly recommend it; a bustling university town full of young people (something we don't have in the Deux-Sévres), a vibrant old town with oodles of shops, restaurants and an amazing cathedral perched on a hill, with more buttresses than you can shake a gargoyle at. 'When in Rome', we thought, and consumed a slap up curry at The Taj Mahal.

We had a smooth run up the péage and then hit the Euro Tunnel terminus, which was chaos. Cars pointing in all directions, full of screaming kids, barking dogs, yowling cats and squeaking ferrets. This was a spirit-of-goodwill free zone. It was everyone for themselves; jostling to get through passport control. The only satisfaction being that whether you were in an Aston Martin or a Sandero Stepway, you were stuck in the same jam (unless you were a Flexiplus passenger, whatever that is... damn you with your preferential treatment!)

We were basing ourselves at my dad's house in Rickmansworth. A large family gathering had been planned for the Dec 28, when members of the Shaw clan would battle wind, rain and the M25 to participate.

Living together for a week demanded compromise: my father, kindly switching off the World Service (which he usually listens to throughout the night), although The Archers was non-negotiable. Anna, on her part, was very patient, putting up with family 'Shaw' for over a week, not rising to any inflammatory comments, putting up with my dad's inability to close the toilet door, open a window post visit or flush! Instead she was placated by drinking my dad's wine supply; spending the Christmas week in a semi-comatose state.

On Christmas Eve Anna and I thought we would hit the town. The first pub we visited was so full of humanity, we couldn't get in the door. The second pub had pounding music and groups of young men 'doing shots' (which was not conducive to my tinnitus), the third pub was a bit of a dump, but hey, we got a drink, a chair and I could hear what Anna was saying if I craned my neck forward and shouted 'What?' three times.

My auntie Vicky was kindly supplying the Christmas dinner in its raw state and I was cooking it. This was a potential flashpoint, 'too many cooks' and all that; trying to cook Christmas dinner in an unfamiliar kitchen, with lack of utensils (my father doesn't cook; he survives on Roka biscuits and pork pie, even though he doesn't eat the pastry, just the meat), so carving the turkey with a potato peeler and a whisk was a struggle. Luckily tongues were held and the meal was a triumph.

Deciding what to watch on TV was a delicate procedure. Dad wanted to watch Christmas University challenge every night at 8.30, while we opted for that Christmas classic Jaws. My dad has a very small TV, the size of an Etch A Sketch (if you remember those), but to compensate for the lack of visuals he pumps up the volume until the whole house vibrates. Whenever he went to the loo (which is quite a lot) Anna would grab the remote and turn it down.

At the end of our stay we decided as a way of thanking him for his hospitality and letting us drink all his booze, we would purchase a 40 inch smart TV on which he can enjoy Flog It! in high definition. Although he has struggled to come to terms with the remote control. It was suggested we tape over all the non-essential buttons. This is a man who worked in the highest echelons of government all his working life, but ask him to put on the 1975 Morecambe and Wise Christmas special, he struggles.

The family get together was a special event, and one which will live long in the memory; everyone on top form. The only downside was Anna and I had to get up the next morning at 5.30 to commence the long journey back to the Deux-Sévres. But it had been a week full of laughter.

And now to really confuse you I'm off to welcome the New Year in; in my world it's the 31st Dec, in your world you're about to enter February...bummer!