I peep out from behind the heavy velvet curtain in the window alcove. The noise is so loud. Grandfather is shouting above everyone else. I put my fingers in my ears. When I remove my fingers, I hear Granny grumbling about her dinner being spoiled because the men stayed too long at the pub. But she is bringing in the roast and soon we are all sitting at the table. Granny is such a good cook, and she has made roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. There is cauliflower with white sauce, crunchy roast potatoes, green beans, and it all looks so good. I am worried there might not be enough for me. The men get served first and they take such big helpings. But I do get my plate filled and just tuck in, trying to make myself as small as possible. The best part of Christmas dinner is the Christmas pudding, with the holly stuck in the top, and burning blue from the brandy that has been lit over it.
When we have all emptied our plates, someone always yells: "Bring the flaming pudding in!" and, always, someone replies: "Bring the flaming pudding in yourself." But soon Granny comes in with it, just as I imagined it, with a jug of custard to go on it. Sometimes, instead of custard, there is brandy sauce, which is yummy, too. And, after Christmas, if there is any Christmas pudding left over, Mum fries it in butter, and we eat it that way. But, the best time, is when you eat it carefully the first time. You have to be careful, because Granny always puts little silver things in it and I don't want to break a tooth. Sometimes it is a charm, sometimes a silver sixpence. It is lucky if you get one of these.
After dinner, Grandad is Father Christmas. The gifts are all tied to the tree with ribbons, so they are not very big. But they are fun to do. I bought one cigar for Dad, and wrapped it myself. I know he will like that. Pretty hankies for Mum. I get a ball, and my sister a horse on a stand. You push on the bottom of the stand and the horse folds up all kinds of ways. One of my brothers opens his: a yo-yo, and there is a book for the other one. I am so full from dinner that it makes me tired. I go back behind the curtain, and my sister hides behind the big chair in the corner. You can just see the top of her head and her big eyes staring out. My brothers are not scared. They sit and talk with the grown-ups. My Mum and Grandad play cribbage, and I drift off to sleep with the words, "fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, two's eight and......"

Well, no surprise to this procrastinator, I did not get all the exercises done by the end of the Noughties. Press on regardless.

I hope that my followers had a wonderful holiday season, and will have a word-full New Year. The next exercise in the Fiction Class is writing about a holiday season. Wait a minute! I think I did that. I will look for it and post it next.

The exercise after that is:

Write about a place that was important to you growing up, but don't put people in it. Just describe it as though you were painting the picture with words.

This looks as though it might be easy. Good luck!