Tuesday, the day Christmas dies. I wake up to the sounds of a household working from home and know that its loft and recycle time. First is the triple fried egg sandwich and coffee to fortify me for the coming hours of stripping, untangling, wrapping and storage box juggling. Not to mention the perilous ascensions to the loft loaded with awkward slippery plastic storage boxes. It went just as I thought it would, prolonged wrestling festive baubles and tinsel into designated boxes. As usual the four sets of tree lights were a pain in the arse to disentangle and wrestle into their respective boxes. It seems this year we used a lot of tinsel. Eventually I am down to the bare tree. I chop it up and get it into the recycling bin, which is fortuitous as the recycling collection is tomorrow. The bins go out and then I am in to sweeping and clearing up. Its gone 4 o’clock before I am finally finished. The House is now as it was before the seasonal decorations. I realise that my triple fried egg sandwich was a long time ago so make a coffee and indulge in some panettone. I stare into space for a while and then seek entertainment. I find a Tim Minchin concert to watch and just sat in awe of his talent and laughed a lot. I would definitely pay money to see him live. Tea time comes around and I start to draft the blog. The evening beckons, no idea what I’ll watch, read, write or do as I am already out of spoons with the effort of clearing away Christmas. The stuff is all there for next year, I just need to be.