Don’t Drink and Drive a Sleigh
I refer to last year’s Christmas Eve for a comment on Didsbury.
Anyway. I think Didsbury Wife and I may have blown Santa’s cover in a drink related incident that proves to me that a big tummy and a red coat do not a Santa make and… Don’t Drive a Sleigh and drink.
Our living room has two stunned cats, shards of crockery and will require another, yet another trip to John Lewis to replace the broken pieces of what once held homemade mince pies, organic Didsbury Village Farm Shop Carrots and some lovely Tesco Napoleon Brandy.
Tesco Nepoleon Brandy, on a par with Aldi’s Norpak Butter and about as close to Napoleon as Elba is to Paris.
I digress. It’s the Mince Pies’ fault. Didsbury Son and I started the afternoon happily making them before Christingle and I decided to spice up the mincemeat with various fruits and Brandy, which needed sampling. This led to Vodka and Didsbury Son enjoying gags a father shouldn’t tell a 10 year old .
The neighbours came round. Then we went around the neighbours. There was Cava, mini Kievs, Prosecco and then the Santa incident.
Once I had stopped laughing as we moved through the house with the stealth of Laurel & Hardy moving a piano; I thought that I can’t wait for Didsbury Son to be old enough to tell him about this – it’s a dad thing.