Christmas in Killy

I’m a bit of a sucker for Christmas. Despite the best efforts of the retail sector to stamp out my Christmas joy after three years working in it, I still colour coordinate my wrapping paper and ribbon and get a little too excited about The Big Day.

It’s not that retail didn’t do a bang up job, I’ll grant it that. One Christmas Eve (oh yes, one of the perks of the retail sector is working until ’5pm-and-not-a-minute-before’ on Christmas Eve) we had a meeting to look through the proofs for the next year’s Christmas packaging. True story. But at the end of the day, I’m the Spirit of Christmas, and aint nothing gonna bring me down.

Much like those sappy Hallmark movies, I love the part where your family gets together and eats. Actually, in my family, we EAT. Pretty sure that my mother was Greek in a previous life. She’s unable to cook without over-catering…but no one’s complaining.

This year, it was down to the coast for the annual ‘Mum’s Side’ Christmas bash, and thankfully someone had the foresight to order 30 degrees and sun. We’re in this really strange time where there’s only adults in our family, so presents were banned, and really great food was the centrepiece of A. Really. Ace. Day.

There’s nothing better than that first Chrissy lunch that signals that silly season has arrived, tinsel and all. Which means I’d best wrap all those presents (the ribbon matches, don’t worry, peeps).

And I don’t care how old I get, an empty wrapping paper tube is still a light sabre.