CHRISTMAS EVENING:IN THE AFTERMATH of the Christmas dinner, things can get a little messy. The once delightful picture - well turned-out family, upright father, calm mother - is replaced by a bunch of impostors who are now collectively several stone heavier, somewhat more unkempt and whose pep has been replaced by the irresistible urge to slump wherever they can.
Sometimes the cold reality can intrude, when the kitchen no longer resembles a well-drilled elves' workshop, but a trailer park after a moderate tornado. Tidying it is at least an immediate opportunity to shed some of the calories gained in the previous hours, although to do even the smallest bit of activity is the equivalent of running a marathon having first eaten a Big Mac meal. Bins fill up quickly; the dishwasher will be hopping constantly; there will be a disastrous shortage of tea-towels and tempers would flare if it weren't for the fact that everyone is too full to be angry.
By this time, Christmas will probably have become too much for the weaker members of the family. Which is why, in the midst of all this, Dad must get at least half an hour's nap, while a torn paper crown covers his eyes and his tie threatens to cut off the blood supply to his head. This will be the least dignified half-hour of every man's year: slouched in his favourite armchair, belt-buckle open, his occasional snorts interrupting the Doctor WhoChristmas special. But it is absolutely necessary. This is the equivalent of the toy robot running out of power after a day of non-stop use; of an X-Box overheating after a day of button bashing. If Dad doesn't get this snooze, he will be useless to anyone for the rest of the evening and will go to bed over-tired and grumpy. No one wants that.
When he wakes, it will be time for the umpteenth course, when the tea, coffee, Irish coffee, shortbread and Christmas cake are wheeled out. Everyone must have a slice regardless of how much their intestinal tract is begging them to give it a rest. This may be followed by a liqueur. Or a box of chocolate liqueurs. Or both. The kids will get a late opportunity to play with/break their new toys. And for those with family abroad, it is time to make that phone call, or to dial them up on Skype. Dad's contribution will traditionally consist of saying, "I'll pass you back to your mother."
