So here we are, the in-between days. The demilitarised zone between the turkey and the New Year bells is the essence of Christmas.
Not the helter-skelter whirl of shopping and socialising, nor the chestnuts-roasting boozy bonhomie part.
This is the best bit, when all that is out of the way and it’s just a long, slow void without the pressures and obligations of the everyday, save for the familiar loose timetable of cold cuts, Lego assembly, and old movies.
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