London is a special city, especially at Christmas.

I don’t think there are many cities that make the festive season feel so special, but in London it begins at the airport with all the decorated stores. I flew in from LA to spend the holidays with the whole family, who came over from Amsterdam.

After a 12 hour flight I changed into a suit and headed to the studio to work on some Premier League games. I was terribly jet lagged, but the show must always go on. Once the show was wrapped up I drove to see my family.

It’s always exciting for us when we meet up as we don’t see each other too often. It was nice, warm and loving hugs all round as we checked how everyone was doing. Everybody was good, so we were all happy and excited about spending time together.

It was non stop movies, football, and games so I didn’t leave for three days. Christmas was of course topped off with food, food and a lot more food, as I’m sure yours was too.

On Christmas day we woke up in the morning and were fortunate enough to have two amazing sisters who have learned very well from my mom how to cook delicious food.

In the morning it’s always one sister making breakfast and in the evening it’ll be the other sister doing dinner.
Sometimes it would seem like competition, but maybe that was just me trying to rate the dishes against each other. I would say that “this is the best,” but then the next dish would be even better. In the end I had to stop trying to keep track.

I also decided to take it easy and take a break from training, so I think I might leave the holiday season with a nice present of an extra 5kgs.

After Christmas it was time to head over to Amsterdam for the New Year celebrations. Me and my good friend Herbie got to hang out with a lot of friends from back in the day. We had dinners and drinks and talked about our old stories of our school days.

One of the stories that came up was particularly funny, as my cheeky, 12-year-old self got in trouble at school for grabbing my dear friend Karima’s breast. I was trying to show off to the boys, but predictably the girl hit me right in my chest.

I pretended that I was fine, but I couldn’t breath and was gasping for air. As I was focused on hiding the pain a teacher who saw what had happened ran over, grabbed me, and pulled me into his office. As I was pulled into the office I had to tell the teacher to wait a minute while I caught my breath.

Finally I got some air, and the next thing I knew I was being sent home.

On my way to the bus stop I was trying to come up with what I would tell my mother. When the bus arrived, I jumped on, and you wouldn’t believe who I saw sitting there.

My mother.

“Where are you going?” she asked, and this time I needed more than just air. I explained the whole thing, but I think I must of been begging for my life because I didn’t want my mom to get upset.

But she stopped the bus and made us get off and walk back to school. She gave the silent treatment the whole walk, which made me feel on edge and awkward. After talking to the teacher she agreed that I should be sent home.

I think you guys can probably guess if it was only talking we did when we got home, or if it was like fireworks going off on my ass.

Happy new year people!