Instead, I am here brooding and conducting a quiet worship of Shaun's cook. Yesterday was too much dinner and figgy pudding with rather more brandy than usual; today I've left the pudding and kept the brandy.
Shaun, for his part, observes the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ by catching up on bookkeeping. Or, alternatively, curling up in bed with his nose firmly in a volume of seasonal tales. He passed on the figgy pudding, though he spared a precious hour of his time for Christmas goose and trimmings.
I intend on having a considerably more cheerful time ringing in the coming year, and perhaps reacquainting myself with old friends who I've neglected of late. He may join me or stay in as it please him, and I will inform him as much.
Wassail, drink hail indeed.