Four feeds guiltily loaded into the rotating cat feeder in Rye, with the blessing of the owner. Back up to London with a car full of cheese. On the way through Sussex and Kent, some patches of road had Union Flags half mast on every lamppost like they’re mourning the death of meaning.
We loaded the fridge and then went into separate rooms to be interviewed live on regional BBC Radio about orphan’s Christmas – they needed something to fill up the schedule and we got the roll of the dice.
It’s gonna be quite small probably tomorrow. About twelve over the course of the day but in dribs and drabs. I’m relieved. As is often the case, by the time it gets to Christmas I just want to stop. This year a bit less so than when I’m Scrooging it, but I’m still knackered. Nice to think about why we do this though. It can be a very starkly isolating period, and all the imagery involves happy looking groups of people. Christmas hats and camaraderie and jolly jolly jolly heigh ho the holly.
I’m in bed ready to get my head down, and I’m a bit bilious after an Indian meal. My gaviscon is in Bergie and I am debating as to whether to go get it just to make sure I’m not up all night dealing with all that spicy rich food before another day of indulgence. I think I’m too warm and cosy. I’ll take the risk.
We found blinis. I got the last box of quails eggs in London – not pre cooked with a little sachet of celery salt but I’ll hard-boil them in the morning and then we get them warm. That’s what mum used to do. Morning will be bubbles and blinis with lunpfish caviar cos daddy doesn’t stretch to beluga. And smoked salmon and cream cheese and chives and lemon. Then gammon and a great big chicken just as I haven’t got time to cook a turkey in a way that isn’t gonna be like eating paper. And some veggie options. Brian’s mum is here. She eateth not of the meat. I don’t think she’s the only one. Cauliflower cheese with all of the cheeses. Giant tiramisu. Frightening quantities of cheeeeese that need to be eeeeeeten.
Christmas is gonna happen. Nothing I can do to stop it. Might as well make a little area where the things exist. I’ve been my usual terrible Santa for presents. Nothing for anyone but chocolates…
AlBarclay 