I bladdy love Christmas. I arrive home [trumpets blaring, at least in my head] as the prodigal daughter, spreading joy and christmas cheer like a post-spirit-visit Scrooge, taking over the kitchen like a more svelte Ina Garten. Oh hang on, I've mixed up my metaphors somewhat. Well, you get the picture.
Since coming home I've made more truffles, baked gingerbread men, played board games, drank lovely boozey hot chocolate, watched a plethora of movies, and rolled about in the snow. All in a days work for Mrs Festive over here.
I can't wait for Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day, and pretty much the whole time I've got left at home. My only responsibility here is to keep an eye on the fire [but I'm pretty rubbish at it] and I'm just revelling in the utter luxuriousness of not having anything to do.