Christmas and post Christmas madness is over, only till the next year. Every year I promise I will not do it again: searching the local land for carp, begging my mum to start bigos for me in her house 1000 miles away so the smell of sour kraut will not reach my house, moving furniture to squeeze a tree, moving a tree to squeeze the presents, soaking butter beans for the night, mixing them with boiled potatoes and cabbage (again), convincing the girls that water with prunes makes traditional soup ( will I ever find out why), threatening the girls that there will be presents if they don't try all 12 dishes which they detest anyway. This is the Christmas Eve time when peace falls on my head but I am too tired to notice. One day I will go away....