I’m surprised none of you heard my rant about Christmas last week - even Bill scarpered
I’d been muttering to myself all day but went nuclear when John walked through the door
Joe had asked my Dad weeks ago if he’d like to come for Christmas dinner and he said yes. We decided that we ought to ask my sister and brother in law too, but expected them to be going to be having dinner with one of Roger’s three children and their families. They said yes.
Now this is where my rant began. First off, they live 20 miles away and her reply was that they were wondering what was happening with Dad because “it’s a bind to have him” at their house. They’ll be over here seeing Roger’s grandchildren in the morning anyway.
In the 46 years since she left home she’s never once invited my parents for Christmas dinner (and she loves to cook), not even when she was 3 miles away did she ask them. My parents have always expected to spend Christmas with family, many times I’d leave it late to ask them in the hope that just for once my sister would get in there first, but no, never. I’ve spent every Christmas morning swearing under my breath in the kitchen. I hate cooking, and especially so for other people.