um, Christmas

[homage to Larry Sultan, really ...].  We'll start off with my father pouring some lunchtime champagne.  On the right, my photo-shy mother bolting, fast, out of the frame.  That red glow?  That's the oven, with Alice's baked potato baking.  She's back in the hotel, sick as a dog.  I'm uncertain why dogs are sick, but it's a customary phrase - if a baffling one.

My father poses, gamely, with champagne.

Each year, a favored few get a calendar, with The Best Of ... the previous year illustrating the months to come.  Here my parents try and guess whatever my pictures could possibly be of.

The calendar-gift was packaged up with a fetching ribbon, that my father then tied into a bow tie.

Ah well - if in doubt, give books.

Happy British Christmas, everyone ...