I wonder why Christmas has been so predictable over the years. Frankly speaking I would love to go somewhere for Christmas, but it never happened. So we spent time at home, a few friends dropped in, we had cakes and a glass of wine, and that’s Christmas all nicely wrapped up like a present and forgotten.
This Christmas wasn’t any different. We weren’t invited, even to my sister’s place. So we decided to spend the day at home, a few friends dropped in unannounced, made them eat cakes. For lunch the same old chicken curry and I had bought some white wine and since I like white wine, sipped it ever so slowly, and, ah! the tangy taste of white wine was just divine, more like a poor man’s champagne. Felt so nice and peaceful during my afternoon siesta that I lazed on bed till 5 p.m. By that time another predictable Christmas had already gone by, or most of it. At night it was another chicken and fish curry, another tipple and off to bed for I am working today, which is boxing day.
And Rochelle since you asked what Anthonybhai would say, I am going to inflict on you what our Mack-speaking Anthony D’Souza would say:
You know men, Christmas, no men, like season for joy only, agree, like ole man Father Santa says. But I think Christmas is also season for giving dem poor people some warm clods, and eating stuff like cakes, no, men? What da people are doing is disgusting, men. Anthony not liking at all, the drinking and eating and dem becoming, becoming like pigs no?
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