Some of my best memories of Christmas involve my nan. We would spend Christmas or Boxing day at her flat. We’d gorge ourselves on Quality Street, Roses chocs and salted peanuts. Then Christmas dinner would be served. Adults would fall asleep, we’d play while James Bond played in the background. At about 6, my nan would start laying out a buffet of tinned hams, crisps, cheese, beetroot, pickled onions and bread. About this point, nan would remember the crackers she’d hidden on top of her wardrobe, they would get pulled, jokes exchanged, hats put on and cheap plastic toys argued over. We would walk home full of excitement wondering how we could wait another year for it all to happen again.
London in sight.
Rail replacement buses get more jazzy.