Merry Christmas

It scares me to think that if my Dad was a lumberjack he'd look like Ernest Hemingway.

I think an excess of family has done something terrible to my brain. Spent Christmas at a bizarre country cottage extravaganza that was part awkward family reunion and part giant house party full of complete strangers (who we invited along to ease the awkwardness). Along with my immediate family of four there was my aunt and uncle and three cousins, plus three kids Olly brought with him from the UN conference in Poland, four Japanese college friends of my aunt, who had nowhere else to go, and a hamster called Hamlet. Half of us ate vegan chickpea curry, with spinach, while the others had pheasant, venison sausages, and gravy, so everyone was happy. And dessert was gluten free christmas pudding with soy cream, amazing.

Now I'm recovering by locking myself in my flat, where no-one related to me can find me. My Christmas presents this year consisted of a pad of origami post-it notes, two books, a hideous eighties jumper for my collection, and a pair of enormous rainbow shorts. My housemate Sam spent Christmas day birdwatching in Sussex, so I can't complain. We are both recovering by playing with Hemingway's head, and redecorating the flat while our other housemates are away. Check out the previously beige living room-