It’s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve. The children are long asleep, excited beyond belief at the prospect of a visit from Santa and his Reindeer. Presents are wrapped, stockings are stuffed. The cats are patiently waiting for me to go to sleep so they can sneak into bed and slowly push me out of bed onto the floor. Wife has realised we are about to run out of milk and has gone wherever one goes at nearly midnight on Christmas Eve to get milk and I am left thinking about friends and family and Christmas.
This will be the first year for a long time where I won’t have had a chance to spend at least part of it with my best friend. There is a certain relish with which I approach the challenge of hiding and wrapping best friends presents each year. We both know that no matter where I hide them, however carefully they are mixed, unlabelled with other presents they will be found and opened before Christmas. This year, I convince myself would be the year I won. I’d get a present hidden so well it wouldn’t be found, unwrapped and left staring me in the face days early - a glaring monument to my regular yuletide failure.
Watching my children open Christmas presents is truly one of the great pleasures in life. Watching my best friend open them (knowing that they have already been inspected fully in advance) is not even a close second, it’s a tie for first. Eating too much turkey, talking a walk in the snow, falling asleep in front of the television and farting quietly during The Queen. These are the shared experiences that make Christmas special and this year my best friend is 3000 miles away. It’s not really a proper Christmas without your best friend and my Best Friend isn’t just for Christmas. (See below)
