I love love love Christmas. Well, actually, I'm a ferocious grump on the run up to it and find myself year by year more scrooge-like in my foul-mooded mutterings about consumerism, crowds, perfume adverts, parking, packaging, and, well everything really. And then the kids come home, and everyone is daftly happy, and they still invade the bedroom at ungodly hours on Christmas morning, shrieking excitedly over the charity shop crap in their stockings, (though they are all in their 20s!) and then we all eat far far too much, all the time, and we crack up over charades, and we read and lounge, and life is good.
I drew some decorations:
I drew some desserts:
I drew some drinks:
And I drew some pressies:
But mostly I cooked and ate, and then cooked again.
There was one attempt at a salad, which, while it had the merit of being pretty, it was really only a small island lost in a sea of delicious over-indulgence.
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