The milkman normally comes on Mondays but not this one obvs. Probs wants to give the horse a break. All is quiet upstairs in the Davies house except for the occasional sound coming from a bathroom.
Downstairs is a hive of activity, at least in the kitchen, as THG gets on with some of the veg prep and I prepare myself for the breakfast short order chef role. The ingredients are out of the fridge but there is noone yet to cook for.
Tbh we are all still full after last night’s chindian. It may be a restrained Christmas breakfast although I’ll believe it when I see it.
In the meantime please show restraint when opening the presents. I have visions of wrapping paper flying around in a frenzy, cries of delight or feigned “this is my favourite colour slightly too small jumper” delight and “don’t forget who gave you what so that you can write thank you letters. Now what did aunty Flo give the youngest?
Happy Christmas all