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I no longer spoke to my sister. She didn't approve of what she called "my alternative lifestyle". We had fallen out at Christmas, three years ago.
Another family row to add to the happy holiday memory collection.
As kids, we had always looked forward to Christmas. We had taken time to write lists, plan what we would make our parents ( we never had any money to buy stuff, but we were creative).
We always seemed to forget how awful the previous year had been.
The inevitable argument - started by one of our grandparents usually - would cause tables to be swept clear of games, or overturned, doors to be slammed, horrible raised voices and threats of harm, and - on several occasions - the police to be called. We would hide together in our room or sometimes outside, in the shed, waiting until the shouting stopped.
And we promised each other we would never be like them.