R reveals her inner Christmas diva
I'm going to admit it straight away - I'm a Christmas snob. I blame my parents and the blissful-stuff-of-legend Christmas day that they achieve every single year. My mum is the best cook I know, my dad writes the worlds best treasure hunt and my sister wraps the best presents. Lately my Favourite has been joining us and he buys incredibly thoughtful gifts and helps me stoke the fire, very welcome additions to our joyous day.
Anyway, point being, anything less than a four bird roast, a roaring fire and a perfectly co-ordinated tree and I'm OUT. Turkey? Are you joking? That's for diets only. And tinsel? Don't even get me started. While I appreciated the fun in a tacky, bland food-filled Christmas, it's just not for me. I like my yuletide decidedly middle class, filled with glass baubles and sound tracked by laughter, Gregorian chants and the crackle of a wood burning stove.
At the moment I retreat to my parents home which is aesthetically perfect from floor tile to ceiling fixture, but one day when I'm a real grown up I'll have my own home and hopefully, come Christmas, it'll look a little something like this...