Another year is racing to its close. The breathless stress of Thanksgiving turkey – will it be cooked? – overdone? – pink in the middle? – is successfully behind us. Just in time to draw breath and start all over again for Christmas. Our daughter was entertaining her husband’s family – Americans all – but we are English so our turkey day is Christmas day. Hence two turkeys to test us within one month – although I am seriously considering side-stepping the issue this year and having poached eggs
The best day of the Christmas period for me – and I guess most British housewives – is Boxing Day when all the tension is over. Either the bird was cooked or it wasn’t and, after opening the wine, who cared anyway? Boxing Day is the day to relax, eat left-overs – cold Brussels sprouts – yum; Christmas pudding fried in butter and brown sugar – a family favourite for years before the good-diet folks hijacked us; finish up the wine (if there’s any left) , put your feet up and let someone else do the washing up.
Time to take a breath and relax before welcoming the New Year.
Welcoming? Well, I don’t know about that. This last year has been pretty horrendous for much of the world and the future doesn’t look much brighter. Perhaps I can bury my head in that new sweater someone brought me and wait for the next turkey alarm.