I'm currently sitting with my sister and her boyfriend watching Coronation Street: they don't really want me in the room, but are happy to be watching their show- I don't really want to watch their show, but want to be in the room. Everybody gets something of what they want, but also something they really don't. What a perfect microcosm for the Kelly family Christmas!
In terms of presents, which has not really been what has exhilarated me about Christmas since I was about twelve, I did very well on both the receiving and the giving front: when I was younger, I never really understood that old maxim that it feels better to give than to receive, and I'm still not entirely sure it's true, because I really like getting presents, but I get it more now that I no longer want the entire day to be a marathon of me opening presents while my sisters watched on green-eyed and slack-jawed and presentless (see above re: when I was twelve).
Now-a-days, I've taken to simply asking exactly what people want and, if they fail to answer, a voucher to a non-descript store of my choosing. It amazes me that I used to get personalised presents, all thought up in my own head, for up to twelve people- I used to bother with friends, you see- with cards, all containing a personalised present, and properly wrapped. I don't know how I found the energy or came up with the ideas for the gifts. My mum probably actually did most of the work, looking back on it.
The downsizing of Christmas is a common theme of conversation among the Kellys this year: we're all waiting on someone to have a baby. Probably Orla. I've been relieved of duty on that front- apparently, they'd rather I got a job. I think I would, too. But, six wilful adults, three of whom really don't want to be up before ten and three of whom don't want up to be up after nine, none of whom really want to compromise and only half-want to spend time with each other, are rather hard to shepherd into performing any kind of productive, or even enjoyable, activity. So, our Christmas morning comprised mainly of not really doing anything, but doing so very busily and with everyone stressing. For some reason, we think adding a human infant into the mix will increase efficiency- it's hard to see how it could decrease.
We eventually got to go for a walk- one of our family traditions- and eat far too much and of an extremely rich and completely delicious dinner, and then we played Dixit and, for the first time that I can remember, literally in all my life, we all enjoyed a board game. So much so that I actually skipped Doctor Who (having set the Freeview Box to record it, natch).
That really is a Christmas miracle.
I met my old Drama teacher, Mr. Petty (whom I now allowed- nay, expected- to call 'Robert'; oh, I'm so oooooooooooooollllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllldddddddddddddddddd) at a party at my neighbours, where I was one of only two people under fifty, the other being my sister. Sam, my neighbour's six-year-old son, who normally rounds out the Ironbridge Youth Set, was at a much cooler party in Buildwas. It was fun to see Mr. Petty again, because I hadn't seen him in six years, and thus got to inform him of all my theatrical exploits since starting Uni (it was basically a less self-effacing version of the middle paragraph of this post). He was happy for me, but a bit bemused; after all, I don't think he ever pegged me as a particularly promising student- I only got a C at GCSE, after all. (Maybe if I'd described all the shows to him in the exact way I did in that post, he'd have found it easier to believe.)
Patrick and Ella came to visit on Sunday, and we lived it up, Ironbridge style. Meaning we went to the Tea Emporium and then the White Hart and then they went home. And the Tea Emporium weren't serving coffee. Woo! #IronbridgeLife!
Coronation Street is over now- in fact, it ended a while ago; this post took a lot longer to write than I'd anticipated. I enjoyed Corrie more than I'd expected, as well: Orla said it was funnier than one would imagine and I agree. Not that I'd ever watch it again. I have my pride.
...Somewhere.
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