LAZY DAYS, MOVIE MARATHONS AND PYJAMAS APLENTY

And just like that we’re into the second week of January 2022. Christmas? Done. Hogmanay? Gone. In the blink of an eye.

We both worked through the festive season. This just goes with the territory of our occupations, and we appreciate time off with the kids together is a rare thing.

When it happens, it’s enjoyed, regardless of the time of year.

Nothing momentous was achieved. No major life changing decisions made. No mountains climbed. No masterpieces drawn or novels written.

Pyjamas, however, were worn, (more often than not), and we shied away from unnecessary public outings.

Nothing to do with Covid, more to do with rest, laziness, and comfort.

Movie marathons were held. Old favourites dug out, dusted off and watched with the same vigour as all the times before.

Christmas movies, a different one chosen by each of us. Even with my protests that he resembles the Grinch or Scrooge more, the mister loves Elf and can be found wearing one of his excellent Christmas jumpers to watch it.

He claims he wouldn’t even own a Christmas jumper if he was either of those other characters.

While I reluctantly agree he has a point, it still doesn’t excuse his most worn Christmas jumper being a ‘Star Wars’ one.

I’m a Miracle on 34th Street gal. My hysterical troupe of Bams love doing a countdown to my sobbing as soon as Richard Attenborough starts signing to the angelic little deaf girl. Am welling up just typing about it.

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation is a little too lifelike and makes for uneasy viewing, so we tend to skip over that straight to Arthur Christmas or the Muppets Christmas Carol.

If anyone says there is a better adaptation of this classic, I’ve yet to see it.

The debate over Die Hard’s merits as a Christmas movie crops up annually in this house.

In my humble opinion, just because it’s set at Christmas doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.

HOWEVER, I go on to ruin my own argument when stating Harry Potter IS. Even when I try to strengthen my claim pointing out there would be no greater place to spend Christmas than the Great Hall at Hogwarts OR at the Burrows with the Weasleys.

We did make it out to go to see Spiderman at the local cinema. The kids and I have behaved like shifty drug runners for years, smuggling in our own contraband juice and sweeties.

I can’t wait to blow their tiny minds when I finally reveal there is no actual policy against it and cinemas genuinely don’t care. It might ruin some of the magic or thrill of the trip to the flicks.

Spidey was good but the recliners were better. The frequent references to ‘M-J’ kept waking me!

Doesn’t Marvel realise my naptime is sacred – I don’t care who dies in a movie as long as the dog lives?

Board games were another pastime. Monopoly brought out our uglier side, so we swiftly moved to Cluedo.

The kids protested that the mister had an advantage due to his profession, which had me ugly snorting prosecco out my nose because I was laughing so hard.

Trivial Pursuit was unearthed and put back just as quickly. This may be found in a charity shop near you very soon as I no longer care to be shown up for not knowing the capital of Australia.

We made a pathetic attempt at Scrabble but apparently my writing this column and the mister once getting a seven-letter word on Countdown doesn’t make us competent here either.

A novel! Surely this is a safe, relaxing pastime? Wrong!! I’d forgotten about the moment when you finish a book, feel a little bereft, look around and realise nobody cares.

Everyone is just getting on with life, as though your paperback hasn’t just put you through an emotional trauma then dumped you.

I’ll retreat to my beloved cookbooks thank you, at least they’ve never broken my heart.

This may sound dark, but I’d like my funeral to be like a giant book fair with everyone getting to take home a cookbook.

It’s not like the mister will use them. Just kidding, I want them buried with me.

‘Twas the season to stay in and enjoy lounging around.