Christmas Confessions 2

More great Christmas Crackers – another batch of seasonal confessions…

 

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We planned a Christmas family gathering at our house for Christmas Day, two years ago, and send out invitations. However, by mistake, we used my Mother-in-Law’s address on the invites and only found out on Christmas morning…

So we just went there with our turkey  and made a surprise out of it. We got away with it too, without her getting too angry – as it happened, she wasn’t on our invite list.

 

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A few years ago I bought my then girlfriend an expensive (if somewhat miniscule) bottle of perfume. As it was near impossible to wrap, I decided to play a joke by secreting it in an old ex library-sale book that I’d bought on a whim and never read.

I opened it to the centre pages, lay the bottle down and cut around it with a Stanley knife to the depth of about 20 pages, extracted the cuttings and placed the perfume in the space, closed the book wrapped it up and finished it off with a nice ribbon bow.

On Christmas Day afternoon, I got a phone call which went something like this. “Hiya! Merry Christmas, loved your present, been wanting that book for years - ” at this point, there was a dull thud as I fumbled with the phone.

“Only problem is, it’s ruined by some oily stuff that had leaked through the pages and it’s a bit musty. Oh, and by the way, somebody wrote rude words on the opening page and tore the last page out? But, they must have felt a bit guilty as there was a fiver in the flap of the dust cover. Did you keep the receipt?” 

What could I do? Needless to say, when I recovered the book it was as I had wrapped it up. The perfume had been removed. In fact, there was no smell, no rude words, no missing last page and no fiver either. My joke had well and truly back-fired…

 

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My best friend received a free hessian bag one summer, which she then decided to sell on eBay. Not being a quiet person, she told lots of people what she was doing: that’s my opportunity, I thought. Once I knew it had been listed (at the inflated price of £2.50), I challenged her friends - and to be fair - all the people that she had spouted off to about it, to join me, in a bidding war.

It started at £0.50, and gradually rose to £1.50. All the time my friend was advising everyone there were lots of bids and how amazing that anyone could want such a hideous bag! We all agreed, but hey, there are some funny people out there. Eventually the bag was sold and duly despatched for a sale price of £3.14. All went quiet.

Then, on Christmas Morning, there she was opening presents when – lo, and behold! – the said bag was all wrapped up. wishing her a Merry Christmas from an unknown admirer…

 

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A few years ago my sister decided to make her first Christmas dinner with her husband a little bit special. Everything was all planned in advance – the dinner, the table setting, the champagne. Then she saw it – a massive cracker!  She thought this was ideal since it was just the two of them.

Christmas day arrived and she was all excited. Turkey with all the trimmings was cooking away nicely, the dinner table was set up and the champagne was on ice. The time came to open their cracker and out fell biscuits, a squeaky toy and a rawhide chew. It was a cracker for dogs - needless to say that she hasn’t lived it down since!

  

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This one fine Christmas I racked my brain to find the perfect gift for my father. He’d been a rock, supporting me as I recovered from spinal surgery, taking six months learning to walk.

I found what I believed to be the ideal gift after many hours of deliberation. The gift itself was expensive and far more than I wanted to spend. However since he had really stuck by me and supported me through a big year I thought he deserved it.

On Christmas day he opened the gifted and seemed to be delighted and very grateful for the item. A year went on and I had not thought about the gift at all. It was another Christmas morning and I received a beautifully wrapped gift from my father.

As I tore in to the ribbons I was concerned to see my farther had given me my gift that I had taken hours to select for him. I said, “Great! You got me the same thing I got you last year!”

Sadly, no. My Dad was being nice. He couldn’t remember who’d given it to him and figured it would be nice to pass it on to me, instead.

  

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Christmas 1965, a five-year old girl and a three-year old boy sneaking downstairs to see what Santa had left. 

The tree was full of gifts and we started colouring in our new books (we were always allowed to open our stockings).  Oh Look! Something shiny! A new gift had been unwrapped by an adult the night before and left on the coffee table. Curious little hands and fingers tried to make it work. Success! What is that strange smell? Uh-oh. Quick! Back up to bed! 

After everyone got up, we were quizzed about had we been up – oh no, not us!

The evidence of the smell and the burnt hair of the little girl had told a different story.  The wonderful shiny object had been a new lighter and the burnt hair of the little girl was mine!  But we didn’t get into trouble – the male adult of the house had his new Christmas present taken away for a week! 

 

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I did once buy my girlfriend at the time some really rather erotic nightwear to open when she was alone as I was away for the whole of Christmas. She kept it hidden in her bedroom until Christmas day came around which she took it out of her hiding place. She told her sister to go grab the presents off her bed for the family, which she did.

After the Christmas meal the family started to open the Christmas presents. Mum, Dad, two sisters, a brother, an aunt, an uncle, two young cousins, granny and granddad… you can alread see where this is going.

She saw it and decided not to open it saying that it was from me and I wanted to be there when she opened it up but the family, being the family they are wanted to see what I had got her so they bullied her into opening it in front of everyone.

Obviously the father and mother weren't very happy to see it, uncle and aunt found it pretty funny and Granny and Granddad didn't know what it was really and Grannie decided to hold it up against her self for all to see. saying along the lines of 'this wont keep you very warm under all those lovely clothes you just got'.

Awkward is the best word to describe the next time I saw her parents.

 

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In 2008 after a lot of deliberation because of some very poor feedback on the breed in general I become proud mum of a Red Setter puppy called Clifford.

As expected his behaviour from the off was appalling and, true to form, on our first Christmas morning with Clifford I awoke to find my half-eaten turkey being used as a football and kicked around the kitchen floor.

Every year since then I have still cooked my turkey on Christmas Eve and in the absence of anywhere I can store the turkey overnight where Clifford can’t reach it I now wake on Christmas morning to a whole cooked turkey on my bedside cabinet.

Handy if I get the munchies in the night I suppose!

 

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Growing up my Mum didn’t have much spare money, so being allowed chocolates on the Christmas tree was a real treat.

When I was about 8 years old, I used to sneak into the living room and pinch a chocolate every so often (imagine Bruce Bogtrotter style), then quickly hide the evidence so that Mum would never know.

Of course, when she came to have a chocolate herself, she realised a Christmas mouse had been nibbling away, as there were no chocolates left – my 8 year old mind didn’t work out that would be the eventual outcome.

Mum promptly marched both myself and my brother into the living room and stood us next to the Christmas tree to ask who had eaten all of the chocolates from the tree.

I was thoroughly embarrassed by the situation so quickly answered ‘Not me, it must have been Alex’. I looked cautiously to my 6 year old brother who quietly said ‘Yes Mummy, it was me’. I couldn’t believe my luck, I’d gotten away with it! I quickly re-adjusted my halo and went off to colour a picture for Santa.

I still don’t know to this day whether Alex was eating the chocolates simultaneously or whether he just took the wrap for me that day…

I still daren’t tell my Mum about my Bruce Bogtrotter moment, as Christmas chocolates are still like gold dust in our home! This Christmas, I imagine I’ll be taking the blame for my two-year old Nephew eating all the chocolates.

 

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My daughter, aged 7, asked if there really was a father Christmas and insisted that I tell her the truth.

I asked her to think very carefully about that request as she had asked me a similar question about the tooth fairy a few months earlier and as a result the tooth fairy no longer left her any money.

She thought about it for a moment, then said ‘It doesn’t matter’ and skipped off to join her play mates. 

I also used to tell the kids that the lights they could see in the sky ( aeroplanes wing lights) were on Santa’s sleigh and he was checking they were in bed.

I then ran round to the front door and knocked loudly and pretended to be Santa so they shot upstairs and jumped in bed.

 

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It’s like the gift that keeps on giving, there’s more to come soon!

 

 

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