When the vote’s been cast, as with Christmases past. They’ll hold face, with dignity and grace. They won’t complain, they’ll always remain.
Divisive yet dependable. The great Brussels sprout.
What a year we’ve had. It could have been better. But as you sit down this Christmas hold familiar friends near. Remember the small things, the often forgotten. Cherish the humble, the steadfast, the loyal.
Forks out for the Brussels sprout. It wouldn’t be Christmas without.
(Go on, make Mum’s day – do her proud.)
ENDS
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay