I can't remember exactly what possessed me. A few months ago I casually mentioned to m'dad that my flatmate was off overseas to see his extended family for Christmas. So if they were in town at any point around the holiday, they could, you know, stay or whatever.
~manly supping of pints~
Skip forward a week, and my sister rings.
"So I hear we're spending the family Christmas at your place this year? I think this is a great idea."
"I said I think this is a GREAT idea."
Yes. It turns out I'm hosting the entire family of six this Christmas. Ah. Right.
All sorts of questions suddenly occur. Where will everyone sleep? Do I have enough bedding? Do I have enough forks?
I strongly suspect that the solution to this problem will be me throwing money at the good people of Sainsbury's, Waitrose and John Lewis, and doing the full Margo Leadbetter by getting Christmas delivered in a van (or not). Things that I have noted down so far:
1. Industrial quantities of toilet paper
2. Wholesale size box of Quality Street
It's actually gonna be great (Dad has said he will still cook Christmas dinner). But gettnig there is going to be very interesting. I have not bought an advent calendar this year because it would just feel like counting down to an alcohol and stress induced breakdown.
Look, Mummy, this door has picture of sedatives behind!
Wish me luck.