Mags bursts through the door, Jack Daniel’s in one hand, Kraken in the other…”LETS GET THIS FUCKING PARTY STARTED YOU BUNCH OF DICKMUNCHERS!!!”. “Alexa, Play my theme tune!”…A Stone Cold-esque ceremonial bottle smash and chug follows as the South Wales Rattlesnake kicks down my front door and greets Grayson with a luke warm stunner. Damn, Mags came to party, but swiftly hits the deck as her body remembers she has Postural Hypotension and had just legged it from an hour car journey to burst through the door just for shits and giggles. Take note kids…this is what drink and drugs does to you; all those years as a Beetles groupie has done her latter years health no favours at all. Alaska put that bottle down!!! At least add a mixer, you’re only 3.
Yes yes Christmas is over…thank god, and it’s almost time to say goodbye to 2024…It’s New Years Eve…Fletcher Style!!
Disclaimer: Fletcher Style translates to boring as hell, same as yesterday chill in the living room watching TV style. The only difference, we may crack open a bottle of Presseco (don’t worry none for the kids; they’re busy taking shots of the Whiskey Mags doused herself in), and start taking pretty serious bets on the 2025 dead pool…Mags or Scarlett, who goes first? Both looking pretty ropey to be fair, and if Mags keeps up her drinking habit she may not make it to the weekend. Oh and a Chinese…got to love a new years Chinese.
Right, speaking of Mags…disappointingly I had to embellish her entrance, in reality we did a clandestine Maccas meet up with Paigey for the old switcheroo. The only element of jeopardy to Mags entrance was when she destroyed my freshly baked cake from Dad and completely denied it. I can see the crumbs on your chin grams…carry on and my bet may just come to fruition.
Grams, how the hell did that happen??! “I didn’t do it”…then who the hell did mun? “Oh, yeah so as we pulled onto the M4, there were some Mad Max style Road Warriors alongside the car, they jumped in the back door, and shouted ‘give me cake or die!’. I protected the cake, swiftly murdered the bloke using one of the felt pens the children left on the floor and closed the door before anyone saw…but the cake got damaged”. Umm…ok, bloody cake eating liar; crumbs for tea children, Grandma has decided we’d had enough sweet treats for one Christmas. To be fair, it’s nice to see she’s progressed from raiding my mince pies and moved on to bigger and better things. Despite the compulsive lies, we still love her.
Enough of Mags, she’s taken up way too much of today’s frivolities already…let’s see how today has panned out.
Another bloody storm due (we’re getting into Florida Hurricane Season frequency lately…bloody nightmare), so today and tomorrow will be spent in an anxiety ridden mess, praying that my attempt at tree surgery yesterday has lessened the burden on the old trees overhanging the animal enclosures…I don’t much fancy hunting for rogue animals across West Wales as a new years treat to be fair. I’d done everything I could to fortify the rebel base, and began using the long lost element of prayer to further help in the fight against whatever the hell this storm is called…storm dickmunch (where have I heard that today?) sounds about right; probably best I’m not in the storm naming business. Let us pray to the old gods and the new.
Quick haircut to start the new year fresher than the Prince of Bel Air, and a coffee and cake to end the year before heading for said Mags pickup. Hindsight is brilliant, I should have heeded Paige’s warning and not left Mags in charge of the cake. I’m in more of a rage than I was a few days ago when I crumbled and cashed out early on my yearly gambling stint and lost myself £200…absolutely fuming.
Anyways, several trips back and forth to the crumbled mess of cake to do some ‘cleaning up’…yeah cleaning on a similar scale to the Teletubbies faithful hover/pet NooNoo (poor thing must have seen some trauma)…I’m a greedy fucker aiii. I’ve already put half a stone on, and I’m already in a pit of self loathing…bugger it, it’s Chinese Time!!!
After toying with the idea of returning home without Prawn Crackers, I decided I didn’t want to start 2025 dead, so swung back and returned victorious from the Pontarddulais Cracker War of 2024 to a kings welcome; you should have seen it, I fended off my cracker thieves using a half dead chicken as nunchucks and almost killed someone with a rogue triangle of Prawn Toast. Fear not citizens of Greenhaven, I have returned with half a bag of crackers…no idea what happened to the rest 🙄
Chinese demolished (I’m so fat) and Mags is on the hunt for the remainder of her betrayal cake. Damn, the way she’s perking up and chucking down food, I may lose my aforementioned wager. Cake is for celebrating Mags, that’s for the stroke of new year, you’ll just have to control yourself until then…”aww not even a crumb?”, I SAID NO!!
Full of Chinese and disappointment, we retire to the living room for a quick round of Poppys Playtime…a game Grayson insisted on having, but refuses to play without the safety of a blanket to protect his eyes and dull his senses; Jordan it’s up to you. Fear sweeps the living room and a cloud of fear farts fill the air…bloody hell, just guide me, I’ll do it! Finally, we crack the final boss and make it to Chapter 2, all the while Mags continues to disappear to hunt for the cake; something she still denies (don’t ask her about it, she will flat out deny it). Grams where have you gone? “Ummm, just tidying the kitchen”. Yeah, I’ve heard the kids ‘tidy’ the kitchen quieter, stop rummaging the cupboards, I can hear you whisper shouting “if I were a cake, where would I be”. Carry on and you won’t make it to 2025.
The rest of the evening was pretty chill…we were lounging in a Chinese induced coma whilst the baby Binturong caused havoc and helped Mags hunt for her beloved cake. Watching her parade around the house with a pair of cake sniffing Baby Bearcats as shoulder buddies was a highlight of 2024. Like a pair of drug sniffer cats high on the scent of fruit cake the trio of terror tore up the house while Grayson erupted into a fit of panic…”please Grandma, stop destroying our home”. She eventually succumbs and sits back down in pure cake shame, disappointed that she’d let Grayson see that side of her. Ashamed, she ceased her cake induced rampage and waited for new years.
Note: the Binturong swiftly gave up cake and are now a pair of Lambrini girls. I know I know…who the hell drinks Lambrini; Jordan, that’s who. Jordan Fletcher and the fight for the glass of Lambrini. I can see it being part of the same Monster-verse as Kong and Godzilla…now that’s a blockbuster waiting to happen.
As new year ticked on by, we killed the time with a feature length game of Poppys Playtime, terrorising Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy, Miggly Piggly, Wobbly Bobbly and all those creepy fuckers (I’m boss at it), and a bit of The Simpsons. Yeah, it’s not quite the rock and roll party Mags had been expecting, but at least she managed to finally get a slice of cake. Pure ecstasy, a high much better than any drug (and she’s tried the vast majority apparently) as Grandma munched her way into the New Year…she had no idea that 2025 began half hour ago and we’d all gone to bed.
Jokes jokes…ish. We played some games, watched some TV, drank some Rum/Wine/Lambrini/Vimto and had a decent evening. Though things did start to get a little heated in a violent game of Sink N Sand…those kids love to lose.
We paused the game and stopped fighting for a brief 10 second countdown into 2025, celebrate, hug and then get straight back into the pure hatred Sink N Sand brings…
2024 has been strange…we’ve lost some very important loved ones both furry and non so furry, but amongst that, we’ve had some fantastic times as a family…we’ve worked hard, but we’ve played even harder.
Roll on 2025, and some more adventures…HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
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