Sunday, March 26, 2006
This is the Christmas my unspeakable parents are celebrating-the one with well behaved children having lots of jolly fun all dressed up in scratchy clothes and definitely not being arrested by the police. Mum and Dad do not like 'being disappointed' especially when police are involved. Dad points to the painting of this old bloke we used to keep in the downstairs loo until Mum took it to the antiques roadshow and found it was worth lots of money. He looks like he has spent one hundred and fifty seven years waiting for a decent Christmas and has always been disappointed. 'He's not happy,' says Dad ' and neither are we.'
The next morning it's Christmas Eve day. It's ten o'clock and Grandpa Jack has telephoned three times already but I do not want to speak to him. I do not know why he said he was miserable in the 'Pit of Despair', when he was definitely not. I think the police should have arrested him for being a liar but they didn't and then they didn't even handcuff me which was a bit of a disappointment. Mum and Dad have got over me being brought home by a vanload of police and after a load of telling off and talk of being 'disappointed', they have returned to being beamy and cheerful about Father Christmas.
I am sick of it.
I can't tell you how disappointed I am with Grandpa Jack. And it's still, still not snowing. Mum is right about one thing-this is a very difficult time of year.