Ding dongs aren't merrily on high. Every family has its own particular Christmas traditions. Yorkshire puddings with your dinner. Opening the presents in the evening. Readings from 'Twas The Night Before Christmas instead of the Bond film. That's part of what makes the season special. However, it's best to keep these traditions to yourself, and if your mad granddad has a bag full of handbells and is going to force harmonious ringing before the Queen's Speech, maybe leave him at home. Perhaps the best part was Peter's "I thought you'd lost them", dripping with suppressed trauma, making me think he had a particularly unpleasant Christmas sometime in the mid-seventies when Ken tried to force him, Susan and Janet Reid into a fourteen minute rendition of the Carol of the Bells and he ended up sobbing in the ginnel. The non-Barlows took it surprisingly well; Craig even seemed to be enjoying himself. Personally, if I'd been Kirk and Ken had barked "F! F! F!" at me before I'd even had a sherry I'd have responded with a few F words of my own.
Gina is the worst. How dare you, Gina. How dare you. Attempting to insert yourself into Tim and Sally's wonderful relationship with lies and subterfuges. They are far too cute and lovely to have you and your awful jumper ruining things, and I'm glad her lies were swiftly found out. She certainly seemed to be burning every bridge in sight on her way out the door - not only has she annoyed her sister, brother in law and niece, she also proudly declared she was serving pigs in blankets to Muslim guest Yasmeen. Hopefully this will be the last we see of her and Tim and Sally can get back to being adorable on the sofa and having inappropriate sexual encounters at public events.
Corrie still has the power to shock. There I was, thinking the Christmas Day episode would end with Mary leading a heartwarming singalong to Slade in the Rovers, and the producers whipped out one final twist to leave me agog on the sofa. That's right: Jenny Bradley owns a car. Where did that come from? When did she buy it? Where does she keep it? Are there a load of garages the other side of Mawdsley Street? No wonder she crashed it into Liz - drunk or not, she's not driven for about twenty years. Still, if there's a police investigation into the accident it'll be easy to find the car again. Liz wears so much make-up there's probably a perfectly formed image of her face left on the bonnet in foundation and lipstick.
Less is more. I know Sinead is a hippy dippy creative type, but there is such a thing as too many Christmas decorations. That bookcase is 98% festive tchotchkes; Daniel's been forced to shove his poetry collections to one side so she can fill it up with the entire contents of the B&M seasonal aisle. How many Christmas trees does one person need? Mind you, it could be worse, judging by her other decorative touches.
You share that flat, Sinead; have some consideration. Poor Adam has to get up in the morning and eat his cereal under a giant picture of your uterus.
We are all the Roberts-Tilsley-Platts. Among the divorces, enforced separations, and just plain absent families (what were the Battersbys up to? Why was Tyrone shocked to discover there aren't trains on Christmas Day? Where did Alya spend the day until she turned up in the pub?), it was nice to see a clan who were very much like the viewers at home. You can't call Gail's lot normal, not really, but they were the most easily empathetic of the Christmas Day dinners. Sarah-Lou's simple optimism, David's cynical voice at the end of the table, Nicky trying to be the authoritative older brother. Kids having to be paid to play together. (Incidentally, I hope they gave Harry that pedal car for real, because he looked thrilled when Sarah-Lou whipped off the wrapping paper). The rich granny giving out heartfelt gifts to disappoint the ungrateful offspring. The mad mum in her silly hat.
But at heart they were a bunch of people who loved and liked one another, a proper family who joked and laughed together, who played and bonded. They teased, but they cuddled. They were happy to be with one another round that big old Christmas table. And that's the real spirit of the season.
At the time of writing, @merseytart is 80% alcohol, 20% Cadbury's Roses.
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2 comments:
Excellent summing up of Xmas day Corrie.Ken and his bells made me laugh, Sinead and her giant uterus print made me think I must be seeing things, on account of one too many Baileys.Poor Adam, that's enough to put anyone off their rice crispies.Now I understand why he spends so much time in Roy's Rolls.
Less is more....Sinead's uterus! OMG I bet you are against breastfeeding in public as well. Considering she is risking her life for that little baby...that picture of her uterus...more like picture of her baby by the way.....as far as I am concerned it is a beautiful piece of art. Shame on you for implying it is indecent in some way.
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