Christmas time, sausages and wine
Every year in December, the Greek God(zilla) takes him mum to France for the day. They have a nice lunch together and bring back sausages and wine, which we all polish off over Christmas
This is a tradition that has been going on for many years and it is one of my husband’s favourite days of the year. He really looks forward to it, gets excited about where and what they will eat for lunch and most of all, he loves having his mum all to himself for a whole day.
His mum absolutely dreads it.
Every year is the same, she says.
They leave the house at 6 in the morning to catch the early train. In the car on the way to catch the train, they get lost. Every year. Without Fail.
The Greek God(zilla) then shouts at YiaYia as though this is her fault (even though he is driving and does not ‘do’ sat nav/map reading/asking of directions) and they ultimately end up missing the early train and arrive in France too late to get everything they wanted.
The Greek God(zilla) then insists upon a supermarche dash in record speed, bundles cases of wine and sausages into the boot of the car before rushing them back to catch the return train.
By the time they arrive back in the UK, his poor mum is completely shattered and it takes the next 364 days for her to fully recover.
Every once in a while, she will suggest that BB accompanies them on the next trip, or half-heartedly offers her place up entirely.
BB has yet to be available, even with 364 days notice, for 5 years running. Eva will not even contemplate joining them. I mumble something about having to work.
There is a reason for this.
This year they did not get lost, nor did they miss the early train. They had lunch at a Michelin starred restaurant, ate foie gras and scallops and drank wine. The took a leisurely stroll up and down the supermarket aisles and even managed to squeeze a few christmas presents in the boot along with the sausages and bottles of booze.
So, no shouting then?
Don’t be ridiculous.
There will always be shouting.
But neither of them would have it any other way.
And, neither would we.
What are you Christmas traditions?