From tha chuuurch to tha palace

1. A china bowl with lid shaped like a cauliflower. Possibly the most hideous gift I have ever received.
2. A wire basket. Quite nice, of use as a fruit bowl.
3. A calendar.

And that’s it. That’s my Christmas booty for this year. No books, no CDs, no underwear (and I would actually have liked some new underwear). No Justin Timberlake.

I’m supposed to be getting something else from my parents. I said I wanted a printer, but now I’m not sure. I don’t think I’d use a printer all that much. New underwear – now that would be useful. Yeah, this is what it’s like being on a low income.

Christmas started to get boring when my cousins started having kids. Aunts and uncles became grandparents, so Christmas stopped involving going to visit relatives. It’s just another family dinner. Pass the broccoli. I toasted “from the church to the palace.”

Mum: What does that mean?
Dad: Robyn just made it up.
Me: No, I didn’t.

Sometimes I envy those families where Christmas Day ends in tears. Uncle Garry gets drunk and makes a pass at someone’s girlfriend. Auntie Kim has too much to drink and flashes her boobs. Gran falls asleep. Ross stands on Conner’s brand new toy and breaks it. It ends with someone screaming “you’ve ruined Christmas for everyone!”. But then, maybe people in situations like that would be happy to swap for one of my boring Christmases.

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