We don’t have Boxing Day in our family. We have Bare Knuckle Fighting Day. Me and my sister Beverley were both born in Middlesbrough, and grew up partly in trouble-torn Northern Ireland and partly in the fashionable Seacroft district of Leeds, so we have always looked upon boxing as being a bit namby pamby. Our almost annual bout can sometimes be a fairly amicable affair but today she drank some of my cider so the gloves were well and truly off.
I knew she had come here looking for trouble as she brought her family and my Ma with her as back up. They’re all well ‘ard but so are my kids so it turned out to be an evenly fought bun fight enjoyed by all, though at the end of the day the dishwasher and the recycling bin looked like they were having a bit of a near death experience at the end of the day at the end of the day.
We had a lovely time seeing them all and were very sad when they had gone. To cheer myself up a bit I sat down to write my Christmas shopping list for next year. I know my Mum would love a new gum shield and I reckon baseball bats all round for the kids will go down well.
Me and my sister discussing who should
have the last slice of Yule log.