Well don't want to hijack your post Snow but you did ask
Did the usual buy it, cook it, transport Christmas dinner mark one to mothers. With Dad in the wheelchair and increasingly frail we bring a Christmas get together to them.
Poor Mr is Bee is still holed up in bed right poorly and wasn't coming to spread his germs. .
I have to bring everything from home especially carving knives. My sisters job is to set out the table. This year it was agreed that I would just buy it all, cheese, wines etc and give mum the bill. That often turns into a free fight with the, you haven't charged enough, I know how much things cost.
So I prepared it cooked it in my kitchen ready for transporting.
Mr Bee is always very good at keeping mother out of the kitchen whilst I finish off, and plate up. She will insist on getting under foot and interfering. So no Mr Bee, and she doesn't take any notice of my sister, or me or my sous chef asking nicely to please go and sit down. My sous chef is my son, and we work well together.
So I finally lost my rag and shouted I have asked you nicely now get out of my way!!!
It drives me mad that I have to lose my rag and be nasty for her take me seriously.
I am really not a nasty person.
Mother had bought wine and cheese, not nice wine and cheese. Chaos. And I like organised and calm.
No one was particularly hungry. Dad had a face like a smacked 'arris all day and insisted on playing some awful dirgy music, and got snarky because the CD wasn't 'tuned in' and wanted to leave the table and go and sit in his chair.
And on top of it all despite us all agreeing to no presents this year, nothing, zilch, zip mother has got presents. Not Christmas presents she said just table presents. And that was the final straw. More tasteless toot, to be transported to the charity shop.
So that was that;my son kept my glass topped up with the Prosecco and now that I have returned washed up, put away after plating up several Christmas dinners which have been left in mum's freezer, I am going to polish off the remaining Prosecco.
I will also attempt not punch Mr Bee on the nose for grinning when I related the events of the day, as he was left in bed, in peace, snuggled warm and watching the telly while I was on the front line.
Sorry for the rant Snow but ya did ask.
Going for the rest of the Prosecco now.