We’re done, that’s it, the fat lady has sung, the stapler has stapled its last. No more work in 2008.
We visited my family in Yorkshire at the weekend and spent a very good time surrounded by lots of people, many of whom are unlucky enough to be related to me. We had a nice meal in Beverley, the place of my birth (not that this was relevant to the meal) and came home laden down with presents.
All presents are now bought, the meal is planned, and the house is in a state vaguely resembling neatness. We did the big food run to the supermarket yesterday and survived unscathed1. Although my brother’s poncy southern palate2 is now so refined he only has a chicken in case of “emergency” (i.e. failure to buy a goose) we’ve settled on a nice fresh free range chicken (or “happy chicken” as Janet calls chickens that have been allowed to gambol with the lambs and roam in vast herds across the serengeti.)
We’re doing the quiet thing again this year, so just my brother-in-law over for the big day. With Janet’s diabetes we have to be a bit careful about Christmas snacking, but the meal itself should be fine with judicious application of wholemeal bread and a bit of common sense3. I did sit and watch both Nigella Lawson and Jamie Oliver cooking Christmas things the other day, and aside from an overwhelming desire to slap both of them hard around the face I was amazed at how unhealthy their Christmas dishes were. Apparently Nigella believes that you have to coat all vegetables so liberally with maple syrup that they must emerge from the oven tasting like toffee apples4. I’m currently researching recipes for roast potatoes with rosemary and garlic as the amount of sugar in the supermarket toppings you can buy is ridiculous. Janet is currently making her surprisingly tasty sugar-free chocolate cake (using Splenda).
Then it’s Chr2stmas on Boxing Day when my parents-in-law are doing us a meal.
To get you in the mood — for what is unclear — you can hear Tom McRae doing a version of White Christmas over at his myspace page. Nowhere near as depressing as the suicidal version of Wonderful Christmastime I posted last year, but acceptably mopey Christmas fare.
1 Barring a large hole where my wallet used to be.
3 Sadly our common sense is stored at the back of the cupboard and went out of date in 2006.
4 Also she was flirting with me quite embarrassingly. I think she has a crush on me, poor thing.