Christmases Past.....

Has anyone got any stories they'd like to share of their Christmases past ?....

Thought i'd share this.....

A few years ago before i was 'invented'...Mum,Dad,BigBrother and Big Sister were up and doing on Christmas morning,the only day my brother got up early....anyway 'HE'D BEEN' (father Christmas)....after the usual mayhem of kiddies squealing with excitement and the dog wrestling with the mountain of wrapping paper Mum cracked on with the dinner....Dad finished off the Brandy that Father Christmas couldn't manage...

All sat round the table with glasses charged,brother and sister with Cherryade (they thought it was wine) and crackers pulled they donned their party hats and got stuck in...there was a knock at the door...'Auntie Elsie and Unkie Urnie' from next door popped in to do the 'Merry Christmas' thing...seeing them sat round the table ...party hats skewiff ...Auntie Elsie looked amazed ...."Margaret what are you doing"...Er Christmas Day...eating dinner....sit down and join us....
Aunt Elsie..."do you know what time it is"?.....
Mum... "we haven't missed the Queens speech have we"?.....

Turns out it was 10.30am...Mum and Dad had been up since the crack of dawn and had completely lost track of time....
Now you know where i get it from....
That's a story that gets told every year and remembered fondly ...i've plenty more where that came from

 

Tale I been told a few times, again, before I was around, was that my Mum, for the one and only time in her life, had stayed up late with my Nan getting lashed up on Cider (Mum never was a drinker)

She had such a hangover on Christmas Day that she stayed in bed all day.

Dad & my Brother had to make do with cold mince pies for Christmas Dinner because in those days, men didn't know where the kitchen was

 

Here in Yorkshire times haven't changed that much Zig...the women are in charge of the 'engine room'....

Annnd i'll apologise now for the 'new men' before i get the back lash....

 

Lets be fair, who here can honestly say they haven't peed in the wardrobe?
I'll get me coat....

 

Mind where you stand!

 

Dear Lord...and here's me thinking Men understand sat nav better than womeneven you don't know where you're going

 

I've had that once, lasted 3 days Alcoholic poisoning that is, not peeing in the wardrobe

 

One Christmas eve when I was a young lad, I was going out boozing with a group of mates. My mates had decided it would be cheaper if we had a few drinks in the house before heading into town.

We all went to the corner shop and got a small, maybe 35cl bottle of 20/20 each (horrible stuff, but some of the lads said it was good so we all got some).

Turns out I was the only one that liked it, and at the time it never even occurred to me why my bottle was eternally full even though I'd drank loads of it and my mates were all finished. I was more drunk than ever before or since.

We went into town and I drank even more.

I should probably have pointed out that at the time, I lived about 10 miles away in one of the smaller towns, I knew I couldn't afford a taxi, and the last bus left at 10PM.

I looked at my watch, but couldn't see it. So I asked someone the time. It was 9:50PM, so I staggered off to get the bus.

Once the fresh air hit me, I was even worse. The bus stop was next to the town clock, so off I headed. I heard the distinctive sound of a bus pulling away, but couldn't see it. I checked my watch, couldn't see that, so I figured the town clock is massive, I'll be able to see that. I could see all four or five of them swaying about and sort of orbiting around each other. Even in my drunken state I knew I'd missed the last bus.

So begins my 10 mile walk.

Now here's the thing. As some may know, I'm a computer programmer, and have been for many years, including back then. A thought occurred in my drunken mind and wouldn't go away. What if my brain wasn't flesh at all, but was actually powered by a Motorolla 68000 series CPU. This thought wouldn't be dismissed and it contributed much to my headache, thinking in terms of binary and hardware interrupts. It also made me think I was capable of the purest logic, far more so that a normal person, which is when the next thought struck me. Why follow the roads and paths, which are not a straight line?

So I sneaked through a garden to get onto the railway, which I followed for a little while until it started to bend off in the wrong direction, then it was off over the top of the cliff, ignoring the Cleveland way footpath for being illogically bending, and choosing instead to fall in ditches, cut my head on a barbed wire fence, and other assorted minor mishaps.

As I neared my village, I came to a familiar S shaped descent down a steep hill. Not logical, the straight line is the best route, so I set off through a thicket of brambles, and got stuck solid. Luckily for me some vandals had destroyed a wooden fence, and I could reach one of the broken wooden fence rails. I used this to distributed my weight so I could get out. This time I rejected 'logic' and followed the road. Only about a mile til home.

On that last mile, head bleeding from the barbed wire wound, shoes destroyed from numerous mishaps along the way, I noticed that my right leg was nice and warm, but my left leg was freezing cold. I was puzzled by this, but that nasty pure logic was back. If I thought about that, I'd be focusing less on walking, so I ignored it.

10 miles, several minor wounds, and 8 hours later, I arrived home. I was surprised to see that my dad was already up. He'd been getting everything ready for the younger members of the household getting up. He looked me up and down, and I remember the brief conversation:

Dad: What's happened to yer 'ead?
Me: Banged it on some barbed wire I didn't see.
Dad: Ok, and what's happened to your leg?
Me: Fell a few times, and got stuck, might have ripped my jeans a bit.
Dad: A bit? Have you seen it?

I looked down at my legs. On the right side, my jeans had a few minor rips. On the left leg, there were no jeans. Somewhere on the journey it seems I'd managed to completely rip off the left leg of my jeans.

 

It's the stuff GC Admin are made of

 

Good job or your would turn to bronze and become Manneken-Pis !