Normally I would be on the Christmas "train" by now. Hysteria pitch nearly reached, Marks and Spencers floor plans studied so that I can manoeuvre to the chipolattas from the Christmas pudding aisle in record time.
I have always envisaged the Mitchell Christmases like an episode of the Waltons. You know, Ma and Pa with their gaggle of children. Marooned in our snow clad house for the winter. Or at least Christmas Eve till New Year. Oh, and at least one Christmas Miracle.
But life at the Mitchell household resembles more an episode of the Broons. Old fat Ma, skinny Pa and the normal ups and downs of reality!
I suppose it was when Colin, lying there yesterday, asked me "what would you like for Christmas?"
What do I want?
I want this nightmare to be over. I want you to walk away from this. I want you to wrap your arms around me and say its a nightmare. I want you home.
But I just smiled and said "I'm sure that Louise or Melissa will sort it out."
"Goodnight John Boy......"
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