Normal

I'm glad to know that those of you in Texas are still above snow level. In the north-east of England tonight we're supposed to be able to see the Northern Lights. I've been outside and can't see a glimmer, only a clear sky and stars, but that's a big improvement on blinding rain.

For today's blog I have to tell you about the Boxing Day crackers. For those of you in the US Christmas Crackers aren't biscuits, it's a sort of cardboard tube thing that you pull at both ends, it goes bang, and out come a present, a paper hat, a joke or a bit of trivia, and a whiff of gunpowder because that's what made it bang. The last time we had American visitors at Christmas they'd never come across crackers, but that was at least sixteen years ago.

This year I made the crackers (all except my own, which Tony did). That way, I could suit the gift to the guest. So I was most displeased today, while tidying the dining room, to find two cracker gifts had been left here. Yes, I'm looking sternly at you, Daughter and her Chap. Daughter, I'll pass on the little necklace at some point, but it is a matter of urgency that Daughter's Chap gets his present and sticks it firmly on the fridge where it belongs - or anywhere else he'll see it every day. It says

'Remember, as far as anyone knows, we're a nice normal family'.

Do you understand? It hasn't been easy for us to look normal all these years. We are a family who talk to inanimate objects and imaginary ones, too. We used to ride home from school on a dragon and had a camel called Abdul-ben-Plod who accompanied us in traffic jams. LYS had his own camel, Abdul-ben-Gallop, but he never stayed around for long. Other people left carrots out for the reindeer on Christmas Eve, we left chocolate fingers. Tony keeps a plastic skull in the study. LOS, who liked to throw himself into team sports and everything else, spent much of his teenage years in the fracture clinic, LYS is a swordsman and lives with a lot of lizards, and Daughter is permanently attached to a flute. Or a cat.

Perhaps it goes back to my Grandmother McAllister, who kept a disused washing machine in the garden because it was a useful place to house her frogs. She had retired as a biology teacher but still did private tuition, and was sometimes in the kitchen dissecting things when visitors came to call. She would sit them down, offer a cup of tea, and continue what she was doing. I don't think they drank the tea.

But still, in spite of all, as far as anyone knows we're a nice normal family. Tea, dear?