Psst...is it nearly finished yet?
Please may I get back to relatively normality...I've decided Christmas is highly over-rated...spent the morning prodding the turkey when I'd much rather have been in my shed actually...but it's a sort of obligation to drink practically straight after breakfast and then be all enthusiastic over making cranberry sauce and peeling potatoes...while wondering if the gas cylinder for the cooker would last out and how soon I could decently escape to try out my lovely stuffing fork...
I was honestly. Bored. And I'm never ever bored...but I was.
The turkey looked alright...the potatoes were crispy...the gravy was quite nice. I had the tiniest sliver of turkey and thought it revolting but Himself ate all his and hasn't keeled over yet...then he took the dogs for their walk and I rushed down to my shed and played happily for a while...
The best part of the day is eating fruit jellies with all those lovely E numbers for added flavour...
I suppose it'd be too soon to put the cards and the baubles away tomorrow wouldn't it...and the laundry basket is over-flowing but it doesn't matter about doing the washing on St Stephens day especially as I'm running out of clean knickers...
There was a long pause there because Jamie came up with Tilly...Tilly was wearing a little yellow jacket...with a hood. She is totally adorable even though I don't much like puppies...so I found my camera and was all poised to take some photos when the camera made a pinging noise...battery has run down.
Jamie sat himself down in the rocking-chair and talked...then he talked a bit more...in the end I told him to go away...so he went off still saying thank you ever so much for the tattoo book and the drawing pad...and happy birthday Sue and I expect he's still talking now...in the dark, with his puppy, as he wends his way down the street.
Our dogs have just eaten the turkey giblets...I think you're supposed to make pate and gravy out of them, but the look of the gizzard puts me off so I cook them in a covered saucepan and Himself chops them into bite sized pieces...
There's some Morecambe and Wise on tonight...very old now of course but still very funny indeed...we don't have funny comedians anymore...the new ones veer towards trying too hard to be shocking with their subject matter and their language.
I saw the photographs of Queenie and her motley crew going to church at Sandringham...imagine basting the turkey for them and making sure the potatoes were crispy and the sprouts hadn't boiled dry...apparently they always used to play Charades after dinner...can't imagine anything worse. And if you were invited what in heaven's name would you get Her Majesty for a present...bath cubes in a Boots gift pack perhaps? A pair of fluffy slippers?
So, I've decided that under no circumstances am I going to cook a turkey next year...it'll be a really nice nut loaf 'cos we can still have all the trimmings and the kitchen won't have condensation running down the walls and I won't be risking life and limb every time I heave the dead bird in and out of the oven and I won't have to stuff my fist in my mouth to stop from gagging over its entrails...
Or need to look at it for the next week as it lurks on the top shelf of the 'fridge before I give it to the cats who'll pat it with their paws and then look at me with deep suspicion...'We are supposed to eat this?' 'What is it and where has it been?'
Supper will be yummy...Brie and a pretend Camembert and proper cheese biscuits and Black Olives and there's a home-made trifle...Himself will have turkey I expect.