Christmas for cynics

Oh, Christmas. I want to love you, but what's a cynical atheist to do? 

Years of retail has hardened my poor heart; Preparing thousands of 'half price' stickers for Boxing Day sales, wrapping turkeys and packing Christmas cards (all real jobs of mine). Poor Mike is the same. As a barman, there's nothing like a pub packed with customers clicking their fingers at you and teenagers ordering shots all night to have you wishing you could sleep through the whole thing.

My parents live over three hours away and for the first time, I have a proper Christmas break. I decided to let my heart melt for one day and start traditions of my own (hint: most of these traditions involved eating and/or lying down).

We had lamb instead of turkey. We walked a friend's dog. We ate home-made chutney and watched Parks & Recreation.

The legendary Nintendo 64 Christmas of 1999 has now been matched, when yesterday morning, I unwrapped my very own saxophone. I've been desperate to play since I was 10 but buying the instrument falls to the bottom of my to-do list every year. I keep getting a little thrill in my tummy every time I see it in the living room.

I'm getting the bus down to Alyth tomorrow for Christmas Part Two with my family. As an almost 27-year-old, I appreciate how fantastic it is that I'm still celebrating with a full set of (relatively) healthy grandparents for another year. Merry Christmas everyone.