That heading needs a gloss. My father has taken vehemently against the word "festive" - as in "festive season," as opposed to "Happy Christmas" (and one sees his point, when one encounters, say, a notice on the Tube station saying "Festive Train Times"). So, with irony, everything becomes "festive." Here's our Festive Christmas Dinner Table.
Here are my parents, engaged in their annual festive challenge of working out what the pictures on my calendar might be.
Here's my mother, giving Simba a festive stroke.
Here's my father, putting on a new festive tie (from Sheffield's Design Museum!).
Here's my father again, taking a festive picture of me taking a festive picture of him (no, the camera was not a present - but it was good to see him using it).
Here's my mother, wondering festively what books she's going to be reading.
And here's Alice, trying her very, very, very most valiant festive best. Today would have been tough going without her - truly, I owe her, a millionfold for her festive wonderfulness.