Christmas is a time for families to get together at the feet of the matriarch, even if you're feeling like shit, as I was.
We spent Boxing Day eating a mixture of salad, jacket potatoes, cold turkey and ham, pickles, quiches, pigs in blankets, apricot cheese, stuffing balls, mince pies, trifle, Quality Street, nuts, crisps and our own bile.
"I always enjoy this more than Christmas Dinner," is said every year without fail.
After dinner, the tv recorders are put to work. There's one downstairs and one upstairs.
"BBC1: 6.30, Countryfile. 7.30 Antiques Roadshow. 9.00 Upstairs Downstairs."
"I'll go upstairs and record Benidorm and Deal Or No Deal".
"What about Harry Hill?"
"No, I'm not bothered about Harry Hill."
They have 150 hours of unwatched tv on the recorder. They're going to spend the rest of the week catching up.
We, however, have caught up. Our Sky Plus box is free for the first time in years.
You can judge a Christmas by the quality of its telly. This has not been a good one.
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