
I'm back from my travels, and also much recovered from the fluey virus which reduced me to a shivering wreck under a pile of blankets for a goodly number of the Days of Christmas. It was too much to hope that I would escape unscathed by the bug that had felled the rest of the family and numerous friends in recent weeks, I. And I didn't.

I don't know how he does it.
I was very pleased to have planned a relatively quiet Christmas Day, because (a) this afforded some useful sitting-down-and-reading-new-books time in the afternoon and (b) the fan oven gave out halfway through cooking the lunch!
Re (a) above, however, one of the problems with sitting down and reading a book after a certain age and following a certain amount of unaccustomed morning and lunchtime alcohol consumption is an irresistible tendency to fall asleep.
Re (b) above, mercifully, with a bit of juggling, the smaller, top oven coped admirably with the actual cooking, while the fading heat in the bottom oven kept things warm. The addition of a slug of brandy to each cup of coffee through the morning promoted an uncharacteristic degree of mellow calm in dealing with this slight technical hitch. Had there been a turkey to contend with, it might all have been rather more fraught. But as it was just the five of us, we had an unusual six-legged bird: a giant organic chicken with two of its own legs and four fat duck legs for good measure.



1 comment:
That looks very relaxed, I didn't sit down for days!!
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