It's late on Sunday afternoon. The hordes have gone home or to other Christmas functions with in-laws and the like. The house is both partly cleaned up and partly not. The wife is sleeping. The younger son is recording old Super 8 videos onto his external hard drive via our laptop. I have driven a guest home, almost on auto-pilot, and have had a snooze.
I enjoy leftover chicken (in an ordinary sandwich, with a bit of salt), of which there was plenty....until I dropped the very large plate (and much-loved plate) on the floor while trying to re-open the fridge. Broke one of the plate handles, and dropped the chicken (and some pork) all over. Not a good start to the after-the-sleep-post-Christmas-Dinner period.
In spite of there being a reasonable number of bodies here (16, including ourselves) we still have plenty of food left over. It's always the same. Worse, there's always a pile of sweet stuff leftover, quite apart from all the sweet stuff that arrives as presents for one reason or another. Any hopes we had of losing a bit of weight before going to our son's wedding in the States a week from today have been thoroughly undermined.
For many years, I used to get the latest Dick Francis thriller at Christmas. Those days have gone, and I miss having that sort of light but entertaining book to read in the after-the-sleep-post-Christmas-Dinner period. I've got plenty of books around the house, but that almost traditional aspect is something I miss. I dread to think what's on television - if the last few days are anything to go by - but I do have a DVD that a friend gave me, which I may watch. I'll see how much energy I've got.