It has been an eventful year for my mother's family. And by eventful I mean hilarious. First the IRA gatecrashed my great uncle Vincent's funeral. Because apparently he was in it, which he kept really fucking quiet.

Then my cousin Tommy got engaged. But decided he was going to invite one uncle and one aunt from each side of the family. To be honest, this by itself would have given enough of a laugh to last the whole year. But then his father dropped dead three days after his sister announced her pregnancy engagement. You can so die of shock!

Last week my great uncle Bill died. Who apparently was a multi-millionaire living in Las Vegas, and was the original owner of the Galtymore and Electric Ballroom clubs in London. I swear to God no one ever tells me a fucking thing.

And then today my mum was on the phone to her brothers. Who all have wedding invitations from Tommy, who has changed his mind. And mum doesn't have one. Her exact words were "That little bastard! I'm going to fucking kill him!" She still wandering the house, occasionally muttering under her breath "That little bastard!" It is the funniest thing ever.

It's scary when I'm the normal one.