| Comment | Normally my pals and I have a reunion pint (plural) in Stirling on the 23rd and I'm hungover to hell on Eve.
Five years ago my uncle died of a huge embolism, immediately, and at about 1130pm on Christmas Eve I had to drive my mum to see my relatives as they found the body shortly before. Clock struck midnight for Christmas day and they're all sat just totally WTF. It was mad: his son like 'an hour ago I thought he just hadn't answered his phone for a bit'.
I suppose the Christmas moral is to enjoy your loved ones because you never know. |
|---|