Diving head first into the festive spirit

(thank you Finnzy-Bob for the photograph)
I thought I'd head for the Vico on this cold, sunny Christmas morning, as the 40 Foot as gone considerably more riff-raffy of late. There was a small enthusiastic crowd and a great buzz. The weather was brilliant. 

Back home for some cooking and trying to console Luca from the fact that he was the only one not to get blue tooth headphones (while being the one who needed them most...). He consoled himself shooting arrows in the garden. 

Then Pepe arrived and the festivities proper started. He lashed into the champagne and wine and may have peaked a little bit early (he was slurring his Shakespeare sonnets by 9.00pm).
I arbitrarily switched him to tea for a little while and delayed the arrival of the Carlos Primero. 
Mimi and Nana and Finn and Mrs Raheny watched the Bread Winner on Netflix while the turf fire blazed. Jeez. What a beautiful and depression animated movie that is. Them Talibans they really are a nasty bunch.
I did not see the last half hour as I went for a walk in the dark with Luca to try and rearrange the tons of couscous and litres of wine/beer sloshing around in my dangerously distended stomach. I'll have to watch the end of the Bread Winner on a day when I feel able for it. 

When I came back I finally produced the Carlos I for Pepe and we had a chat (Dublin in the 50s and 60s, for a change...) before lowering him into the sofa for the night.

A full day. Full of food. And drink. And sea water.