Tuesday, 24 November 2015

Christmas Confessions

Cats got the turkey, bad karaoke on BBC Radio One and the Jolly disaster. Time to fess- up I'm definitely on the naughty list.


“Quick, quick, do something the cat’s eating the turkey, “ mum cries.  Seven family members are sitting merrily at the dining room table scoffing soup, their heads adorned in paper crowns,  meanwhile in the kitchen the cats have sneaked in and seized the opportunity latching onto the fresh from the oven, golden-roasted, turkey, giving it a good lick.  
That bit went straight into the bin. The untouched part had to be divided up meagerly. There were no leftover turkey sandwiches that year.

Jump with me

In the height of Chris Moyles BBC Radio One  Breakfast show fame the team rolled into town for a Christmas roadshow. Following an on air announcement I was straight down to the Belfast Eye winning wristband tickets from Aled.  
I ditched the office Christmas Do that night in favour of the shindig in the Mandela Hall. The Karaoke  got under way, the drinks were flowing and my friends and I thought sure we can sing.
Up onstage I felt like a rock star as I belted out Snow Patrol’s Chasing Cars in what felt like perfect harmony with the group. I shouted  “jump with me” and got a few blank stares, it wasn’t that kind of song I supposed,  but one enthusiastic audience member did leap. At the end of the performance the crowd cheered. We must have killed it.
The next morning  the radio show is on and we are eager to hear our 5 minutes of fame. “Once in a while a talent really blows you away,” Chris builds. “Well these guys really did that…. in all the wrong ways and they say the Irish can sing, have a listen to Gilli, Stuart and Robin.”
Oh ground swallow me up, a chorus of  the most painful, out of tune,  screeching rendition of the Snow Patrol Classic that would make you want to chop off your ears plays. I will never sing in public again. Not even in church.

The night before Christmas

In my early 20s  when you arrived home from uni you got pissed with your old friends in the local pub. Christmas Eve was no different except you got super dressed up and started drinking earlier. The night went in a whirlwind, bopping to all I want for Christmas is you, The Fairytale Of New York and  Last Christmas. A very expensive taxi ride home with a pizza in hand and before I knew it my 10 year old brother was jumping on my bed at 5am screaming “he’s been, Gilli, Santa’s been”.

My heads banging, my mouth is dry, I never been so hungover in my life.  That year presents were wrapped hastily in Tesco bags from under the sink with duck tape, I lost my temper waiting for others to open their presents and couldn’t look at the brussels sprouts without gagging. I cried my eyes out to the snowman and couldn’t concentrate on Doctor Who, even falling asleep watching T.V. with the oldies didn’t make things better. I learnt my lesson. Don’t over do it the night before or you’ll ruin Christmas.

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