It hurts

Christmas Day is probably the only day of the year where you graze from getting up in the morning until going to bed at night. The grazing is only interrupted for a huge meal smack bang in the middle of the day. A huge meal with about three puddings and lots of fizzy drinks.

Needless to say, after consuming about half a kilo of salty snacks, 400g turkey, 200g bacon, 100g sausage, 250g sprouts, plus roast potatoes and parsnips and then two helpings of Christmas pudding and a generous slice of panettone... oh, and not forgetting an orange and a satsuma, just so as I could kid myself that I'd had something slightly health today... after all that food, I'm bloated like a blimp, I'm doing the most toxic farts imaginable, and everything hurts. It hurts to breathe.

I'm in bed now, as another Christmas Day draws to a close, looking forward to the morning in the sure hope that relief from my pain will come after a cup of coffee and the thought of a cigarette - of all the things that I have admitted to my parents, smoking cigarettes is one secret that I'm keeping to myself because, even though telling them I'm gay was quite traumatic, they will definitely kill me if they ever find out I smoke.

My brother is a lovely man, but he really gets on my tits and I hate the way he dominates the telly when he's here. He insisted on watching some shite on Zone Horror instead of proper Christmas TV, and then he fell asleep during it. I went off and occupied myself by burning a DVD of a film I'd downloaded from the internet this afternoon. The Night of the Demon (or Curse of the Demon in the US) was made in 1957 and starred Dana Andrews as an American Psychologist who comes to the UK to debunk the claims of the leader of a devil-worshipping sect.  He is cursed by the said leader and tries avoid the same fate that befell a colleague - a big demon came out of the woods ("It's in the trees, it's coming!") and forced him to drive into some live power lines.  Anyway, since TV was so utterly shocking tonight, we watched that and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Tomorrow is the Boxing Day running buffet.  Hurrah!  It's quite good that the shower here at my folks' is absolutely useless as it gives me an excuse to go home and have loads of fags to build up my nicotine levels before the noise in the afternoon starts again.  There will be my sister and Little Con, Alan (who always shouts) and Jane (who puts up with him for some god unknown reason, love I think), Jackie (cousin) and her husband Dave.  All talking over each other, with Mum not paying attention and demanding that things are repeated at least twice each time they're said.  Me and Dad just keep ourselves to ourselves.

At least we won't be joined by Jackie's brother and his wife, who has been on a diet since the day I met her in 1984 and who won't touch a thing to eat because "Oh no, I don't like that, it's hangin'.  I can't stand that, it's mingin'" and then insisting that their son won't eat anything either "Oh no, he won't eat that, he doesn't like it", which I think is the most rude behaviour imaginable when somebody has gone to the effort of preparing a load of stuff.  She never takes her coat off either and just sits huddled (usually over the buffet, whinging) with a face so sour that I'm sure it's begging to be punched really hard... repeatedly.  I've never punched anybody and I don't think I ever will.  I wonder if I  could pay somebody to do it.

I think there's a half-chewed sprout blocking my colon.  I am in lots of pain.