There are easter eggs in Tesco and I am already struggling for a Valentine’s Day poem. THe FA Cup 4th Round is on Saturday and that is what I love about this blog, it keeps me current.
6.30am and Didsbury Son is bright and excited; gorgeous and gabbling. Didsbury wife tries to be earth motherly and friendly and her gargantuan effort spurs me into adulthood. I slip downstairs with Didsbury Son avoiding the room where Santa visits to make tea and check the turkey has slept well. I usually become emotionally attached to the turkey by Christmas morning. I see the prepping and bating as more Viking funeral pageant than cooking.
This is what I have learned about Christmas. All dads, Didsbury or otherwise take note:
1. Do as you are told
2. Do not answer back
3. Be patient
4. After the Age of 21 sprouts are only good in single figures
5. Keep making cups of tea until instructed otherwise.
6. You can never go wrong with The White Company- maybe I should work there instead of John Lewis
I did very well this year. My prizes beyond some fantastic grown up gifts are a football shirt in a size that fits. A new team-shirt always brings a tear to my sad rheumy eyes. As I squeeze it on and feel momentarily elated, I am once again living the dream. My other star gift is a football trivia book so banal and niche that they may as well have called it “For Didsbury Dad only”.
We now have four days in a cottage in the snow. The thought of lying on a couch with an air of sprouts hanging over me reading a “Where are they now” book of failed 70s reserve players who have probably forgotten themselves that they ever played once in 1978 fills me with the unfettered joy of a 9 year old opening the i-Pap he had written to Lapland to secure.
My gifts went down so well that only one is going back for a refit. Didsbury dad, wife and Didsbury son share a couch, a joy and have presents of interest only to themselves. The perfect Christmas.