It's Christmas Day

'Come on Ives, it's time to open the stockings'. It is no longer a crack of dawn thing, but this ritual of ours dates back to when the children were small, and used to get us up at seriously ridiculous o'clock. Its later now as the grown up children have themselves been up until late last night. So I get up. I think I'm still jet-lagged and have picked up a cold, and don't call me Ives.

Anne has spent a lot of time, as every year, preparing the stocking fillers for the children and the opening ceremony takes up an hour or so, and everyone has fun. Mustn't be grumpy. It is the start of Christmas day.

The 'children', by the way, are 26, 24, 21 and 17 years respectively

'Come on Ivan join in and cheer up'. 'I am cheered up' I force a smile, while still feeling headachey and sore throaty. I think being told to cheer up is enough to make anyone grumpy.

'Bags first in the shower', says one. 'Then me', says another. I'll go to my house (we're at Anne's), for a shower. I fancy the walk, it might clear my head. I think it's best anyway, relieve a bit of tension that is building up. 'I'll be back for church'. Of course I wasn't ready for church, and Anne had to come and pick me up.

Church on Christmas day is at Chorlton Central Church. This is the church we all went to together when the children were small. Anne still goes. It was originally a Baptist church, and still is officially, as far as I know. Being in Chorlton though it is very much at the 'liberal' end of the theological spectrum that is Christianity. It caters for all sorts. Just as it should be. There are people like me, normal. There are people with long term illnesses and people of a variety of orientations and races. Talking of being grumpy, even my friend Ged is there with his family. Well Catholics, lapsed or not, have to go to church on Christmas day. The congregation is small, about fifty or so, but it's lovely. After the service I express the hope that Ged received 'a cheerful disposition' this year. 'Not likely' comes back the Jordy response, and a list of shortcomings that have dogged the progress of Newcastle United this season.

The usual showing of presents from young children happens. Worryingly the number of small children has declined. I don't know what it's like normally but the presence of small children signifies, for me, a growing church. It may be different at other times. 'Any of those at that back got any presents?' 'No, not one' I say in a low voice which nobody notices. I actually don't mind not having lots of presents at this stage of the day. It would be nice to get a few later. The grown-ups will open theirs this afternoon. In any case I think there are too many presents. Chorlton is a liberal, eco-friendly, anti-capitalist, anti-materialist village where vegetarians can practice without fear of persecution and wholefood shops flourish. Even here, the number of presents given is the indicator of how important and seriously you are taking Christmas, and how much you care. Your status is based on how many presents are shared. My status is low, and so low numbers of presents. A bit like Jesus really, well except for the gold.

Christmas dinner is again a grand occasion and much appreciation shown to the cooks. A marvelous turkey, although Rachel has fish, and all the trimmings. A glass of wine and I'm stuffed. We do normally think about a walk after lunch, in recent years the thought has been just that. This year no-one even suggests it. It's TV and doze. Then off for more present opening.

I got a coffee maker, much needed since the last one died, a 'friends' trivia quiz, small bottles of wine, a calender, the Andrew Marr book on British history, pairs of socks, the video of the film 'looking for Eric' and a few other things which will come to me. Just the right amount and quality of presents.

Back for more TV. A little dispute about which programme, but as luck would have it nothing on except Dr Who, excellent.

In the evening it's more food then games, charades, peg in a milk bottle, the sock, the tray memory game. 'Boys name-girls name' has been shelved this year due to excessive competitiveness last year, the high status people have decided. Then Grandpa Richard tells a few stories during which I fall embarasingly asleep, and back home to bed.

Apart from a blip in the middle of the day, betraying remaining underlying issues, the day has gone well and everyone has enjoyed themselves. We can start planning for next year. Only 364 shopping days left.