Friday nights' guests were full of ideas - here's their recipe for a classic family gathering:
A beautiful disaster
“why aren’t you married yet?”
Booze, singing, and party games.
The music man, an early glass of cava, and a brother that you love to wind up.
“when will you get a proper job?”
A performance by the children, swearwords in scrabble
Four mince pies to be thrown at an auntie.
Poker, beers, arguments,
And questions, always more questions.
“why don’t you give us a grandchild? Do you get paid for that? How could you leave the BBC? Will we see you at Christmas?”
Sunday roast, trifle, a bottle of blue nun,
Grandma’s mushroom volauvents, and a bowl of salt n’ shake crisps.
Those placemats with cottages on that never come out unless a family member comes round.
“Why are you getting so stressed mum?!”
Blue cheese dip, competitive games, food going cold as Irish political arguments reign!
Singstar, grand plans, more food than you need
A lasagne, made with blood, sweat, and tears.
“why can’t you be more like your sister?”
Expectations, anxiety, stress,
And Grandad in his A.C.A. tie; “are you not going to get changed?”
Light entertainment that descends into cheap innuendo,
The youngest one making a quiz.
Food thrown from high-chairs, trivial pursuit,
And, finally, a reserved grown man, crawling around on all fours, imagining he is a turtle.
“why do you have to be different?”