Christmas Day in the Chicken house

If you lived on top of an active volcano then you'd expect disruption from time to time.

If you live in a household of three females, each of which have only the merest trace of the hormone that controls the temper function then you expect disruption all of the time that they are in contact with each other.

Christmas Day is no different.

The seeds were sown on Christmas Eve, Jodie, the youngest, was at her boyfriends house for most of the afternoon with instructions from Suzanne to be home for 7pm. At 6pm she phoned to say that she would be eating at her boyfriends house with his family at 7-ish and that she would get a lift home at 9pm, it seemed innocuous enough, it saved me having to drive across the city to pick her up, it saved us having to feed her, so I agreed.

Amanda, the eldest was also out of the house celebrating Christmas Eve with her friends and so it left just the two of us in the house, I casually informed Suzanne of Jodie's message - and the seeds of anger were sown.

It built up over the next half hour, for what reason I know not, I do not pretend to understand either the mind of a woman or the forces which drive the temper function, for I have no practical experience of either brain function, I simply do not lose my temper for I don't think that I actually have one.

Luckily when Jodie returned home a few minutes after 9pm she decided to retire to her bedroom thus saving the Christmas Eve peace but of course only prolonging the stewing anger and temper-ism for Christmas Day.

We walked on egg shells all through Christmas Day, there was a general sulk in the air with not much conversation coming from the elder female, the two offspring of the elder sensing this and so not ruffling feathers, I made dinner, as is customary I received a present from each daughter but none from wife, and most importantly I found my drawing pen which I have been searching for for weeks.

The explosion occurred during the second episode of Coronation Street later in the evening, over what I know not for my "switch off sensory organs" function tripped in perfectly as soon as the first voice was raised - I do not stand between feuding women.

It was over very quickly, an explosion of two tempers, resulting in both retiring to their bedrooms leaving me with the chocolates, gin and tonic and TV remote control.

I watched "Pulp Fiction" on my own - a fine result then.