So Bloggers, I've decided to stick to what I know, and one this I know really well are my friends and family ... and when do these people show themselves to us most clearly, well that has to be Christmas ..... 

Christmas at my house usually consists of 8 bottles of wine, 3 cases of beer, 2 bottle of vodka, 1 bottle of gin, a variety of soft drinks and a box of celebrations. The night ends when all of these drinks have been devoured … and then we bring out the shots. As the teetotal member of the family, with the occasional glass of wine (to get me through the evening), I witness all of the bad behaviour. The most potent memory I have is of Uncle Chrissy, (a loveable Irish rogue verging on the middle class and reaching it through his continual use of the word cunt) dancing, as what I can only describe as a steroid hooked chicken. His arms flailing, red face bouncing to the music, with the occasional kick in the air. An image I will always treasure. My mother has a glazed expression; eyes almost shut, with her mouth slightly open, reminding everyone, in a very slurred voice ‘I love you all so much.’ The hostage, we call our step father now begins his dance moves, a mixture of yoga and cage dancing, being 6ft 3 he tends to look like an over active Christmas tree. By now we are all displaying our favourite moves, my sister puts on the rave dance look with my aunt, I bob side to side, and occasionally copy those around me (I do a mean drugged up chicken). Basically it’s a festive time, not so much about the birth of Jesus, but we are definitely celebrating. There is always a drama, always someone wailing at the side hoping to be noticed. But the next year we do it all over again, so it can’t ever be that bad!

Merry Christmas,

Love from the mad house.