TRISH TAKES FIVE: By award-winning blogger Trish Burgess
I’m writing this column in the weird week between Christmas and New Year, when I don’t have a clue what day it is and seem to live on a diet of Quality Streets and satsumas.
But it’s a happy, relaxing time. It’s a joy having my son Rory home from university and his dad is delighted to have his TV sports buddy back on the sofa as I’m deemed to be an inadequate substitute during term time.
There are a few things I’ve noticed about the Christmas festivities this year. Firstly, it’s apparent that I have forgotten the skill of writing with a pen. Christmas cards were a struggle as my fingers, so used to typing on a phone or PC, have lost the ability to join letters together, particularly the word ‘Christmas’, without cramping up. I never did get to the end of my list this year.
Secondly, the internet can be a wonderful way to find suitable gifts for people but I keep forgetting that any searches I make will pop up as an advert on the family computer, giving the game away to the recipient. In future I will do all my browsing ‘incognito’ if I can remember to press the private browsing button. I could, however, turn this to my own advantage by searching for my own presents and hope that when Dougie sees them pop up he will be subliminally urged to buy them for me.
Thirdly, as a family we do love games at Christmas. We have had years of playing charades with a blatant disregard for the rules. There’s always someone who hasn’t brought their reading glasses, another who can’t help but speak throughout their mime and one who insists on props and has no concept of syllables. Una Stubbs would be apoplectic if she were at our house.
Who can forget the Oscar-winning performances which resulted when faced with the movies ‘The Naked Civil Servant’ and ‘Shaft’?
This year we struggled with a quiz where the book of answers didn’t always match the questions. Who knew that the first person to make a cross-Channel flight was Ecuador or that the largest land mammal in the world is copper?
Our favourite game, however, involved guessing the name of the famous person someone had written on a label on your forehead. Cue much laughter when Dougie asked ‘Do I have a beard?’ only to discover that he was, in fact, Prince George. He also struggled with identifying the obvious notoriety of that esteemed chef, Aunt Bessie.
I’m told my mum excelled at this at a neighbour’s drinks party, guessing she was Mr Blobby by asking the fewest amount of questions. It was unfortunate that it was some time later, well after the game had finished, before it was suggested that she could remove the Post-it note from her forehead.
You can follow Trish on Twitter @mumsgoneto and read her blog at www.mumsgoneto.co.uk