Half the fun of C*******s Day is sticking the turkey in the oven at stupid O’clock, your hair & clothes reeking of turkey fat, preparing endless amounts of veggies, lumps in the gravy, kicking the cat, screaming at the kids, finding first, then shoving coins in the pudding, trying to keep MiL & FiL sweet, frantically finding a present for cousin Doris as you forgot you’d invited her too, reminding DH to keep all the glasses topped up, not just his own then, peace at last apart from the scraping of plates and chomping of gnashers. Ah yes, I remember it well
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