Christmas was always a pretty cool time of year, growing up. Best part was always the gathering at my grandparent’s home, my immediate family, my grandparents and my aunt and uncle (usually with at least a cameo by the priest who baptised me – for those who were at Fish&Sam’s wedding, he was the chap what sang).
Sitting around that great front room, talking and smiling, hearing my grandfather hold forth and tell corny jokes, settling back on the gold couch that the Todman Street irregulars knew so well.
Sitting at the big table for dinner and filling my plate with roast potatoes slathered in gravy. (Mum: Morgan, eat some meat! Grandma: Oh, let him have what he wants.) (My Xmas meal was roast potatoes and only roast potatoes for most of my life, actually. I was well into my teens before I started adding bits of meat or vegies to the plate.)
Sitting in the car, in the dark, driving back home at the end of the evening, looking out the window into the darkness, filled up and complete and never wanting to actually get home. Better that moment last forever.
Also: Castle Greyskull. Best. Xmas Present. Evar.