My favourite day of the year is here!!

If there is anyone out there weird enough to be reading this now- happy Christmas!! Hope you all have a good one. We are just about to go for a stroll along the bleary seafront and then I'm heading back here to get the goose in the oven before we head to the pub for one or three aperitifs! (now you are getting why I like this day so much- I get to drink in the middle of the day and it's not frowned upon...)
We were woken at 3.30am this morning by Sadie wanting to open her presents. When I persuaded her that it would be a much better idea to do it when mummy wasn't furious and was actually able to open her eyes and smile she soon settled down. Ten minutes later however, when she'd obviously been lying awake trying to dissect the plausibility of Father Christmas having actually been in the flat, along came the questions about how he got down the chimney when ours is blocked, how come the glass that had Santa's sherry in had now been washed up (she went to check) and why the wrapping paper poking out of the top of her stocking was the same as the presents that daddy had wrapped mine in. So there I was at around 4am today telling lie after lie to my daughter. I have to say, it didn't feel right, and I was tempted to blurt out that really Santa didn't exist, but I resisted and have kept the dream going. Another year, another giant fib. But what the hell- my parents lied to me for about 8 years about Santa and it hasn't screwed me up too much. (she says- having just signed up for another 6 months of psychotherapy)
I've just been listening to Classic FMs Christmas choices and I found myself blubbing to 'Once in Royal David's City', and I've just come in the bedroom to find Andy, on Christmas day, deeply engrossed in a copy of Richard Dawkins' 'The God Delusion'. How could he? Now I'm not a religious woman, but I have been in the past, and although I don't officially believe in any of that brainwashing, I like to pretend, like with Santa to Sadie, that perhaps there really was an amazing baby called Jesus and that there is nice cuddly man with a beard looking down on us and taking care of things. I only do this about once a year, or if someone I know is ill or has been involved in a serious accident, but it kind of works for me, as this is what Christmas meant when I was a nipper, being from a religious family and that. I took Andy and the mother in law to Christmas Eve mass yesterday and we kept giggling when they mentioned 'unmarried woman' and 'pregnant' and 'how can that be?'. It was a bit of a bells and smells church, the priest sang too loud and out of time, half of the carols were medieval, and the Santa they brought on for the kids at the end was rubbish- he looked anorexic and kept asking all the newborn babies what they wanted for Christmas. But no matter how naff and stupid and out of date it all is, I like to retreat back to my childhood on the 25th dec and believe in the unbelievable.

Soundtrack: Pipettes- A Winter's Sky