I’m sat drinking whisky …with coke. My dad would shake his head in despair and say what a waste. Always Whisky with water or straight . I am like my mum partial to a Whisky and Green Ginger . Unfortunately I don’t have any Green Ginger, so Coke it is.

Full fat Coke and Deanston Whisky. Lovely – Just don’t tell my dad.

Drinking whisky by candlelight got me reminiscing… [oh oh]… about Christmas. In the good old days back when I had all my grandparents and my mum was around, Christmas Days were such fun. I never wanted them to end. They always had a familiar smell to them ; Grandad Clarkes tobacco,mixed with whisky, Nan’s Palma violet perfume, turkey and farty sprouts . If a smell could evoke memories; make me feel all warm, fuzzy and safe it’d be that every single time. You see I couldn’t tell you what I got for Christmas last year but that smell from 20 years ago …that sets off all sorts of memories.

See where I’m going …

I’m not a materialistic person. I’ve never had a lot, but I’ve never wanted for anything either. I don’t own anything designer. I do however own my mum’s vintage handbag which is worth more than any Prada darling. Don’t get me wrong I’m no chuffing saint if somebody bought me Prada I’d be delighted, but I’m more than happy with my little hand me down handbag with it’s wonky fastening and bolding bits..

It may sound like it but I’m honestly not applying for Miss World I just think ,especially on social media, there’s a big emphasis on more is more and creating the idea of perfect. The perfect Christmas in your perfectly tidy / styled house, with your perfect table setting in your perfectly co-ordinated outfit, perfectly cooked turkey with your perfect tree and perfectly wrapped presents. Perfectly beige….

Jeez … perfect is so overrated. It bores me senseless. I like messy around the edges and a little unpredictable to keep me on my toes.

Take last year for example … Just after we had finished Christmas lunch [ luckily] , steam started rising through the floorboards in the kitchen , something burst and we had a massive flood ! In-between turkey and trifle and under the influence of coupious amounts of alcohol we did our best plumbers impersonation and somehow between the 4 of us we managed to stop the leak. You couldn’t write it for love nor money. At the time I was devastated… but days later we laughed about it. Not quite the memories I wanted to make, but memories all the same.

The year Coco Cat pooped under the Christmas tree. We didn’t have time to clear it up before we sat down to Christmas lunch. Gross I know but we left it. My eagle eyed Grandma spotted it and kept asking whose present was left under the tree !!

Or the year Rosie cat climbed up the floor length curtains and from a great height jumped straight onto my Grandma’s head. She hated cats, the more she shouted and squimmed for her to get off, the tighter Rosie dug her claws in !! Still makes me smile all these years later. Lovely fun memories , though I’m not sure my grandma would feel the same?

The year Gran bought mum and I a matching knicker set . Three pairs of MASSIVE pants each. So big they almost touched our boobs. We both got drunk , stuck them on over our trousers and ran around the lump a few times, laughing like 2 banshees.

I could go on … I have so many stories .

Of course you can have it all ; the pressies,the perfect and the memories … but I guess in a long winded fashion I’m saying it doesn’t have to be perfect. If it all goes pear shaped have another whisky [or insert drink of choice] and sod the consequences. Remember Christmas isn’t JUST about receiving gifts. It’s a feeling, a smell, a moment. Sometimes it’s heated arguments over a flooded kitchen and that’s ok.

Most importantly it’s about embracing the little moments and making new memories. It’s about the little traditions you did with people who are no longer around.

That you can do that is a gift in itself ❤️