Today my son called me with a complaint. When I had driven in to work today, I had taken with me all the Christmas goodies, from half the leftover turkey, through a large portion of trifle, very carefully carried, to the rest of the mince pies. His complaint was simple…there was no Christmas cake.
“I didn’t make one. Haven’t for the last few years. It seems a bit pointless just for me.”
“I have to experience that at least once more in my life!” This was dangerously close to a compliment, but I forbore to mention it.
“Okay, I’ll make one next year.”
“You might be dead by then!” That was more like the usual tone… “Or they might have banned Christmas cake. We might have to have Holiday cake instead… it wouldn’t be the same.”
The conversation echoed one I’d had the day before.
“Baa, baa, what sheep
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