4th Sunday in Advent
Thick snow falling throughout. It's OK for the likes of Bing Crosby but he doesn't have to shift the bleedin' stuff, does he?
We have the table set, the cocktail cherries ready and expect a nil turnout because of the weather but not so. We had a flickering fire, enough booze to sink a ship, and Ally looking like a debutante from the 1950s.
The first guest to arrive was Mary Moore from across the road. She is a splendidly eccentric spinster who tells us that for a bet she once swam across Dover Harbour on Christmas day. It was too cold she says, because she wasn't properly greased. Others arrived. Cousin Jackie was followed by Sarah and Trevor [unbelieveably] and then the family. A real shindig. Quite perfect. Dad had to dig the car out and he and Mum came with Lynn, Dave and Frances. Jacq & Paul, Karen and Steve, Dave L, Hilda and Tony the last to arrive and the last to leave.
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