Christmas Eve and breathe
It’s time – the shopping is done the shops are closed and all that’s left to do is to enjoy the parties and the presents. I always think of Christmas Eve afternoon as the best bit of Christmas – but actually, now that I think about it that’s because it’s just the start – the point at which you know it can only get better.
I think the symbolic turning point from panic to pleasure comes when you pick up the turkey. I did it on the hoof this morning after dropping off the Christmas party wine glasses back at the office – one breakage out of 48 – very respectable I thought.
One of my oldest friends gave me a lift down to the high street and spent a fretful five minutes flashing his lights in a loading bay (he’s not used to London traffic wardens) while I nipped into the butchers to collect the turkey that Ella had ordered the day before (“It’s fine,” she said: “I’ve seen photos of the farm where it grew up”. There speaks a former vegetarian.)
There was a long queue and a bit of a mix-up in the order so I was a bit longer than I thought but dashed back into the car just in time bearing a 6kg turkey. “Sorry Rog, the butcher was in a bit of a flap and tried to give me a goose.”
“Oooh lucky you! As the actress said to the bishop,” said Rog, putting his foot down. Well it is Christmas.
Posted by Amanda Blinkhorn