Christmas time: mistletoe and wine?

The day is finally up and it's reached that time again, and when I say that time I mean the point where even the advertisers have abandoned all notion of a merry Xmas and are instead trying to flog you their leather look dining set that's been ignored by customers all year for the 'amazing price of nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine nine' 

The fickle nature of the advertising business should be enough to remind the enthusiastic public that year after year buy into the giving and receiving festivities that it is just things that they're pulling out their hair and losing limbs over in the last minute supermarket dashes. 

The thought of Xmas, pre turkey is an all very jolly one. You must watch the cooking shows and the Christmas specials of shows like This Morning and all seems as the day can only go to plan. English society and jovial upper class parties, however, are not the usual Xmas and there is some room for catastrophe. Yet you remain hopeful in the notion that all will go to plan and the grandparents will gleefully receive their box of milk tray an purple v-neck jumper/tin of Bassetts liquorice and john Lewis voucher/ Amaryllis and theatre tickets to Jersey boys ensemble, and be happy. You squint your eyes hoping the turkey WILL fit in the oven and NOT be dry as it has in previous years, most notably in 1991 when you had 12 to feed and an uncooked turkey at 5 in the afternoon. You hope the youngest siblings will not sneakily drink the sherry behind the sofa and you hope the dog will not mistake the authentic synthetic plastic tree for woodland and raise a leg, unleashing a tidal wave of canine territory marking upon the newly fitted cappuccino coloured carpet. 

Whilst you're fantasising about how you may roast a pork lion like Tom Kerridge, present your icing sugar laden delicious home made buns to your guests and dress your tree like Kirstie Allsop does, you observe your children playing in a calm and most surprising manner as they discus their wish list to Santa; notes accompanied by pictures cut out from the Argos catalogue functioning as visual aids in case of emergency, and your hubby whom you do so love on Xmas day pours you a festive tipple of baileys over ice and mouths the words to 'baby it's cold outside' in an entirely charming, and not one bit slimey fashion. 

However, the reality of Xmas sneaks up on us all like catholic pregnancy or the shits. No one has ever gifted the right things and all too often we hand out the 'emergency three for two' soaps from Boots we bought back in October, which entirely defeats the object of gifts at all but Xmas seems to bring out a sense of neurosis and who to buy for dread in all the best people, and it can only be remedied by a cheap beauty product from a high street chain. 

Grand parents are very rarely overwhelmingly grateful and over joyed by their gifts. The milk tray is ever so well thought out as so to not interfere with the productivity of their dentures and although the jumper is a large and borderline insulting upon initial opening, post Xmas excessive eating and general greed it fits snug and suddenly a sense of 'bloody good present that' sets in. The liquorice, to some degree is a small gesture to oneself. Despite being a firm favourite of your grandparents the confectionary itself resembles your soul at this late stage in the season, black and bitter. Although the comedy becomes very apparent as you watch grandpa chew... And chew... And continue to chew... And further chew... And chew some more... Chew... Chew... And as we reach 2016 he continues to chew... You understand where this is going, yes? 

All the gifts are lifted to eye height and given a vague nod of approval then put to one side which is quite disheartening for the buyer and often leaves an air of ungratefulness although fainting and crying with excitement would probably be considered an over reaction so it is difficult to find a happy medium. 

Dinner prep becomes more like the Royale Family each year and as you discover your turkey won't fit in the oven, or take three millenniums to cook, you seriously consider the pros and cons of microwaving the majestic creature. A Xmas dinner of turkey is characterised by it's dry texture and accompaniment of week boiled veg and out of date condiments, which will ring all too true if you're a member of my family. Pudding is often a disappointment, fruit and booze like sherry and brandy, especially in a desert, are something we try to avoid all year round and eat in the name of tradition over Xmas willingly...baffling behaviour really. 

Hubby is probably not charmingly pouring you a baileys over ice... He's probably working out the cheapest drink to mark the occasion which often leaves you holding an 80s throw back over frothy snowball and trying to look happy about it. The children's conversation you're listening in to will start off as a delight but inevitably it all ends in disaster when your child tells her friend or sibling of a present they want, but have not once asked for in the run up to Xmas... Again, my family will be giggling now as they think 'Wendy dress' 

At the Xmas meal, as you're all sat around the table at different heights in dining chairs new and old, deck chairs from weekends in Blackpool in the summer of 1974, patio furniture and your grandmas old machine chair that spins in every plausible direction defying science on so many levels, you tuck into your meal giving each other the same banter as the year before. Again my family will be thinking of my mothers obsession with finding out if she likes crab sticks every year. Then as people try to help the day unfolds. And funnily enough so does the sanity. Too much horrendously cheap wine is consumed and one too many jokes are made about whomever chose the bottle of Chardonnay that is sat in the centre of the table and everyone is avoiding; clearly someone wasn't informed about the ABC of wine (anything but Chardonnay), party hats are worn, unless the crackers are cheap and they are too small to fit on our family of large heads, the Queens speech is talked through- because nobody actually listens to it in the entire country, do they? And nothing is as Jamie Oliver Said it would be. The tree by this point is lop sided and 99% Of decorations have jumped ship and spread themselves across the floor and all notion of a festive cabin that was the initial thought behind decoration has absolutely gone to shit. All that's left for the day is horrendous television and too much booze. Watching various soap characters die or have their affairs outed with a Morrisons home brand Irish cream and a toblerone, followed by Love Actually is how you end your 25th December, providing you're doing it right of course. 

Upon reflection, you've made jokes at each other's expense all day with a vague undercurrent of resentment and tried to, in some cases, suppress disappointment because you haven't received your Lego Star Wars storm trooper key ring. You've eaten too much and drunk too much and not one thing you've overly indulged in has been something you consider to be your favourite. Tv has been an exceptional let down and the company has been compulsory. And despite it being utterly amazing to give presents and see a smile stretch across and otherwise miserable loved ones face, the entire day is an celebration of pure greed. Which you've whole heartedly basked in all day. Merry fucking Christmas. 

P.s do not fear... I got my storm trooper key ring *thumbs up* 

Trouble't'mill

In response to Katie Hopkins the Sun Column...

Here she goes again, Katie Hopkins charging forth with nothing but bile to spit at passers by, this time in the face of Nigella Lawson. It is no surprise that the only publication willing to publish her, frankly poisonous opinion is the moral sewer that is the Sun.  As if her reputation is not already on the rocks, she continues to offend further pockets of the population, now thoroughly alienating Nigella fans with her upper-middle class, borderline pretentious observations on how one should live ones life. I felt compelled to defend Nigella Lawson because, first of all she's ace! And also because Katie Hopkins needs to be reminded at every opportunity that British journalism should be about facts with an entertaining twist, not a constant need to ridicule and attack other people. 

This time there is no Holly or Philip to gag her as she goes too far, and quite undoubtedly she lunged over the Line with her insulting column documenting Nigella's 'fall from graces'. Hopkins undeniably chose her moment wisely, climbing on to her broom and launching her attach just as Nigella's admission and apology went out To the world; clearly an attempt to overshadow and belittle her as Hopkins needs the fleeting spotlight to save her rapidly deteriorating career. 

Nigella is apparently 'in the gutter' ...oh the irony. The column seems only to have been written to attempt personal digs about Nigella's bust size and 'seductive glances' which should be no concen to Hopkins and are definitely no relevance to any recent news issue. In typical style she loses sight of any real point she may have initially wanted to make and stoops to petty insults based on jealously and a need to be outrageously unkind in order to appear controversial. Perhaps she should instead focus on the journalism rather than unfriendliness. 

Hopkins likes to think her standards hold so much more integrity than Nigella's, who allegedly smokes cannabis in the company of her children, yet she will openly declare support for calling children, who ever's they may be, fat or ugly or whatever else. She stated on national television various opinions on how she stereotypes and interacts with people based on weight, class, tattoos, hair colour, name and much more which essentially bulldozers the work of all anti bullying campaigns in the last 50 years. But she would NEVER stoop as low as Nigella who's dabble with drugs is the cardinal sin... Sarcasm very much intended. 

Her Saatchi's had 'a lot in his plate' comment can be almost entirely disregarded. In fact I bid you all erase it from your memory immediately. He may have had a bad week where he had to buy Tracey Emin a pack of wine guns to calm her down after a calamitous disaster of getting some of her finger painting on his cream loafers, but I hardly think this compares to a lifetime of loss that Nigella has been living with for some time. Imagine your husband, sister and mother all pass away in a space of sixteen years and tell me you wouldn't consider a release, a confidence boost, a relaxant... For some it's paintball, other's it's a joint. The point is you try these things and find out then you eventually feel stable enough to continue without them. She is by no means a full scale addict, although if she was the public should treat it as any other illness and NOT sling mud at her for what is a medical condition. Thankfully she is neither partying into the small hours in a coke induced haze. Not is she shooting up in the toilets of TV show The Taste, and her excessive appetite is down to greed not the munchies. Give the girl a break. I don't really think Saatchi's hypothetical tiff with Emin or even latest bit of tottie Trinny Woodall can be identically scaled by the tragedy in Nigella Lawson's life. By no means am I blaming her decision to take drugs occasionally on her past but I am saying it's understandable, we don't know, and more importantly it is none of our business. She's admitted it, she's explained it, which is actually more than I think she should have done, an she's apologised. As long as she is happy and healthy I, as a fan, am very happy to move on. So shall we? 

Also the newspapers that have reported the drug issue, wrote Columns relating it to the photographs taken earlier in the year where Saatchi was seen with his hands on his ex wife, from the angle of being allowed to rag her about a bit because she's a raging addict smack head, which is an attitude all too often reflected in society. I'm sure none of this was intentional, no press baron, not even Rupert Murdoch would acutely condone  violence to women but the views expressed in society still side with the power figure in most situations, usually the male. This is blatantly apparent in recent statistics where rape prosecutions stand at an all time high, yet still unacceptable 63% and domestic violence convictions at 74%. The society dynamics kind of came across in this one story where a powerful woman like Nigella Lawson was still essentially attacked by the press because she has a little black mark against her name and it is therefore seen as acceptable for what was seen in the photographs to occur. 

Hopkins seems to be this beacon of feminist propaganda, all powerful woman, working mother, successful tv personality and yet she's all too quick to pull down other women, other feminist ideals such as Nigella. She makes personal digs about her physique and furthermore claims Nigella goes out of her way to make other women feel inadequate, which although would be the easiest method of advertising, is not the case at all. You can watch any interview and see that Nigella is quite obviously a cook because it's what she's passionate about, it's just incidental that she can make money out of it. It's also painfully apparent that Nigella is not at all a domestic goddess and it is all very ironic. The entire thing is fun, family orientated and fascinating to the outside world who see this posh bird bake then stuff her face. It has very little to do with making women feel inadequate with their existence and being able to rectify this with Nigella's latest book. It's honest. And Hopkins seems to miss this honesty and fun factor, maybe because she's jealous or lacking in confidence, which is sad to see in someone that could potentially be a very nice, articulate lady. 

Hopkins may well be enjoying Nigella's fall from grace as it means her husband no longer lusts after her which I'm sure Nigella is gutted about as it was the primary goal she set out to achieve *rolls eyes* yet Hopkins seems to have fallen further and further into the inferno herself recently with an 80,000 signature strong petition to remove her from out screens for the foreseeable. Nigella's little tumble isn't looking all that tragic now is it...