Eleven

Yesterday, we were eleven at table. Both the boys and Lady Sunshine were staying with us and for Boxing Day, Daughter and her Chap came over. (They are spending Christmas with his family and New Year with us, but joined us for the big family bash). My sister and her husband were here, and my parents. We showed off the fireplace, and everyone sat round it opening their presents and toasting their toes.

With a master feat of engineering we shoe-horned eleven of us into the dining room. A tablecloth went on top of the jigsaw and we brought in the little card table where Tony and the boys used to make models together in long ago days. Sister brought puddings. (And glasses, in case we ran out. In the course of three days we only broke one, and it wasn't one of hers.) I played carols badly with various cuddly toys banging on the keys helped by the boys. (We should never have given LOS a harmonica.) Then Daughter played them beautifully, and finally we sat down together to play a duet of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer with me doing the easy bits and I still managed to come in late.

At some point we got to talking about the Dolls' House, and LOS brought it downstairs. Dad, who made it long ago with help from Father Christmas, was delighted. The furniture was duly inspected, possible updates were discussed, and we talked about its history. There was time to do what I first did fifty-something years ago, and play with my doll's house at Christmas.

In the evening when the others had gone, LYS, The Sunshines and I sat down to play LYS's new Terry Pratchett game. A great time was had by all even though we only understood half of the rules and LOS couldn't read them without laughing. A couple of hours ago they all left, and I feel a bit bereft now.

Time for a hot bath and a book. Not at the same time. The pages get soggy.