Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Christmas Day!

I've just got home from Christmas Day celebrations with my family and tuned into new Dr Who. I'm currently writing this from underneath my bed where I am trying to recover from the shock of the revamped opening credits and score, because they are clearly the worst thing to have happened to Who since the last time it did, whenever that was.

As I recover, I shall recount my day to soothe the awfulness of it all. My day started at 8, when I awoke and padded downstairs for a coffee and a sneaky peak at the goodies Santa had left. A bag bulged promisingly, and I settled myself in front of the television. I promptly got out a book, because early morning television opens up whole new vistas of awfulness, and five minutes of Horton Hears A Who was sufficient to convince me that the Jim Carrey I grew up with and loved has finally gone the way of Candy's dog.

Before long, I was joined by my parents and finally my sisters. Nobody in my family has ever really been a morning person, and that distaste of hours that finish in -AM has clearly only grown in my absence. However, we got down to tearing open paper and tugging at sellotape with first joy, and then frustration, and finally desperation as we tried to use teeth, scissors, and at one point a tin opener to get into our gifts. No luck. My mother wraps presents as though she is not wrapping presents, but in fact binding a lesser demon. I suspect the reason nobody's seen Cthulu is because my mother sent him a gift, and he's still trying to get into it. He's persistent.

With gifts given and received - "What I got" is a game that has been played all day on Facebook, and quite frankly it's bored me to tears, so if you're interested in what I got then ask - we got dressed and made ready to head out into Christmas Day.

So that took me all of half an hour, and gave me an hour with which to amuse myself. I watched the first episode of Beauty and the Beast, which was quite frankly abysmal, and ironed shirts. I grow a little more like Jeeves and Wooster every day; I am still quite unforgivably posh, but I am mastering the art of "Indeed," "Very good," and "Of course." I am yet to fully grasp the intricacies of "Are you quite sure?"; it tends to come out more sarcastic than intended. But we live and learn.

One of the things I learnt today, for example, was that even amongst the morally bankrupt and the unrepentantly bigoted there is a spark of creativity; apparently "If it's not all white, it's not all right," which is a charming thing to say and has a masterful cadence while maintaining the repugnancy of white supremacy. I must note that the speaker controlled themselves masterfully, as they chose to speak this choice phrase before my cousin's very brown, Thai fiancée came in. It's the little touches.

I shan't bore anyone reading this with the intricacies of my family; I am quite sure there are similar pockets of your family with whom you do not speak, perhaps because of a difference of politics, of opinion on rights, or even religion. There may be some overlap, in which case, bingo! There are no prizes.

The only other thing of note is that I set a pan full of brandy on fire and poured it over a christmas cake, much to the consternation of our youngest family member, and my parents outed my dog, which I strongly oppose on ideological grounds and that it should be up to him to come out whenever he wants.

I'm back to Dr Who, where I'm pretty sure a mere 8 minutes in we've had a gay, cross-species wedded couple. I look forward to seeing how well that goes down over on BBC America. I am sure reaction will be 100% positive.

In any case, it looks good so far.

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