Christmas in Brighton
I just celebrated my first Christmas in Brighton. I usually spend the holiday season either in Ireland with my family or in Arizona with Jessica’s family. This year, thanks to a Kafkaesque game of beaureaucratic tag involving the Home Office and Jessica’s passport, we were stranded in the UK—like most people as it turned out.
It ended up being a most pleasant affair, spent in the company of good friends and copious amounts of good food. Following a shady rendez-vous with chicken-pimp Pete, we had the raw materials for an excellent roast. After an evening (and early morning) of playing poker, in which Andy emerged victorious, the festivities were complete.
With Christmas done, I am now going to spend my first New Year’s Eve in Brighton. To be honest, I’m not much of a party-goer so I don’t think I’ll be enduring the cold for Fatboy Slim. Besides, my mother is coming over to visit and I don’t think that would be her scene either.
Instead, I’m planning to carry my current enjoyment of coziness, comfort food and mindless entertainment across the threshold of the year. The entertainment will be delivered via the big screen TV that I treated myself with at Christmas.
Now I can finally watch those films that I vowed only ever to watch on a big screen:
If you need me, I’ll be busy treasuring the twin spirits of Christmas present: gluttony and sloth. Once the new year has been rung in, they can go back to being vices but for now they are both most assuredly virtues.