A big fan of Christmas
You might not think it to look at me but I'm a big fan of Christmas. Almost everything about it, in fact.
You know, thinking about it, I'm probably one of Christmasses' most loyal supporters.
Sadly, however, the feeling isn't mutual. For some reason, Christmas has got it in for me. Not unlike Dirty Den and (Spoiler Alert...) Maxine and Emily. And I don't expect this year to be any different.
Aran Sweater: Highly stylish
Fashionable
I'm pretty sure this year's presents won't vary too much from the last, in that I'm reasonably certain an aunt will give me an Aran sweater - knowing how much I love that 'fashionable but warm' January look, while my uncle will give me a book voucher that I'll quickly sell to someone for half its value in cash.
Someone will forget that it's not 1986 anymore and give my 27-year-old sister and myself a Cadbury's Yuletide Selection Box each, and the only relation who tries to put some thought into it will have noted my fondness for music and television and very kindly bought the Gareth Gates album.
And rhen things will start to go downhill.
At dinner, there are no specific seating arrangements, yet somehow, I already know that I'll end up beside my brother-in-law, who sells industrial pipes for a living. Fortunately there'll be some respite to my left, where my grandmother will repeatedly inform me that I should eat more, before insisting I pull a cracker with her that she won't have the strength to open.
Consecutive hours
And from there, it'll just be a quiet evening in front of the television. Someone will take offence at all the Caramel Kegs being gone while we endure at least three consecutive hours of soaps followed by mediocre films.
Of course at some point during the evening's viewing, there'll be a few ridiculously uncomfortable minutes as some form of sex or nudity makes its appearance. It's incredible - I spend the whole year watching TV alone, constantly seeking various forms of sex and nudity with minimal success, but sit me down with my entire family and every channel becomes a Russ Meyer marathon. Like a police car, it always tends to show up exactly when you don't want it to.
So there you have it - A brief glimpse of Christmas in the Cunningham family home - all to the strains of 'Merry Christmas Everyone' by Shakin' Stevens.
If life gets any better than that, I'd like to know how.
