Just because I live on my own it doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I have chosen the single lifestyle because it suits me. And as far as I can see, the only drawback is that there is nobody but oneself to hang around for deliveries or washing machine service engineers.
Try telling my friends that at Christmas! Ooh, don’t be on your own on the 25th, they trill, come round to our place! I’m ok, I answer, really I am. Well, come to us on Boxing Day they insist, and it seems rude to decline the myriad invitations. Luckily, I’m perfectly capable of being rude.
I always go to a mate’s house on Christmas Day. We have the full works and it’s very Christmassy. Sometimes I pop to another chum’s place for a plate of cold ham and pickles on Boxing Day. And that is quite enough for me
Really, Boxing Day to me is getting up when I want to (if at all!), eating what I want to, grabbing a beer and a mince pie and watching anything and everything on the telly. No duties, no polite conversation. A real holiday!
I did once, in a fit of what I can only call misplaced gratitude, accept all the Boxing Day invitations proffered. Boy that was an awful lot of turkey sandwiches, sherry, cold sprouts and plum pudding. And an awful lot of being patient with other people’s over excited children. Plus a massive taxi bill! Not to mention all the bottles of wine and boxes of chocolates I had to cart around. (Well, you can’t turn up empty handed) I was absolutely cream crackered but you can’t fall asleep on other people’s sofas. That really would be rude.
By the end of the day I was fit to burst and quite honestly I needed two days to get over it!
So friends o’mine, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your kindness, but in the words of Ms G Garbo, I want to be alone.
And for followers of my soft furnishing saga, that’s where I’ll be on the 26th. On my lovely new purple sofa. I’ll sit at one end, then the other and then I might try sitting in the middle. And as long as I can reach the remote, I’ll be happy!