Yes, in true British fashion, and repeating the reason why we moved to Oz so many years ago, the weather was awful today. It wasn’t particularly cold but the clouds came and went and the rain with it. In fact, Mirinda, Sophie and Max took the dogs for a walk around the streets at around 4pm and, while it started dry, they were soon very wet. They came back home a bit earlier than they might otherwise have done.
Not that I was overly affected. I spent a lot of the day making Christmas lunch. I did, however, stop long enough to get a photo of the complete dressed tree. By the time it was finished last night, it was too dark to get the full effect. As it is, this is only the front.
You may have noticed that the bottom of the tree is largely bare of decorations. The height reached by Boris’ tail was carefully calculated and allowed for.
Speaking of Boris, he had a lovely day. Sophie took him for a walk into Farnham early on then, when the others went for a walk in the rain, the dogs went with them. Mind you, I think the complete climax of his day (if not his life) was the big bowl of turkey scraps I gave him.
Of course, Emma and Freya enjoyed theirs as well, but they’re used to being spoiled rotten.
Back in the kitchen, I’d taken all the frozen stuff out last night and started working on Trevor (the turkey) at the unheard of time of 9am. The reason for the late start was to do with the size of the bird. We normally get one that needs chainsawing to get into the oven but, this year, I decided to go with a bird big enough for the people eating it rather than the entire street.
I buttered, stuffed and seasoned Trevor and shoved him in the oven. At various times I took him out and checked his progress and give him a bit of a baste. He was looking good. And smelling even better.
While he roasted himself to a tan envied by tourists on the Costa del Sol, I prepared everything else. The ‘trimmings’ as they are often referred to. I made the usual bread sauce, cranberry sauce, turkey guts gravy, yadda yadda yadda and, naturally, plenty of veg. The table, once set, looked a treat.
And so, without further ado, we tucked in and, even if I do say so myself, I thought it was pretty good. Particularly the individual Christmas puddings, which I’d never made before. They come from Delia and are the perfect sized portions, if you ask me. With the addition of her rum sauce, they were perfection on the tastebuds.
Of course, after lunch, I was destined for industrial action and refused to work. Tom and Mirinda stepped in and did the washing up for me, for which I was very grateful.
A little later, we watched the King give his Christmas message then, for something entertainingly different, we watched the hilarious Who Killed Santa? A Murderville Murder Mystery. Jason Bateman and Maya Rudolph improv their way through a murder mystery without scripts or any idea what’s happening. They were both very, very good. And it was all a total cack.
Finally, it was time for bed. We all collapsed, tummies full, worn out by my laughing. I should add that it was the first time my wife told me not to laugh so much. I hope she’s not turning into Shelly. I’m going to find it very difficult. And I can’t really move.
Anyway, it was a jolly Christmas here in Farnham.
Merry Christmas from all of us to you and yours.
