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I’m quite nostalgic for those Christmas Eves
When, rising early, we would roll our sleeves
And start preparing things for Christmas Day.
“I love ‘traditional’,” my wife would say;
We’d wrap the presents, decorate the tree,
Select the wine, put beer to cool (for me),
Then, vegetables prepared and turkey trussed,
Award ourselves a spot of festive lust . . .
Ahem! When twilight fell, a glass in hand,
A log fire blazing cosily, we’d stand
Before the frosty window as the snow
Formed drifts that gleamed in our reflected glow.

This year is different. My wife’s still there,
But since she caught me plumbing the au pair,
She’s changed the locks; I’m banished for my sin,
And I’m outside the window, looking in.