Hells teeth, not again, I know it's only once a year, but I must admit the Christmas dinner this year was magnificent, all the trimmings, wonderful company, lovely atmosphere, the tree all decorated, with its twinkly lights illuminating the room, the grand children all excited, and taking centre stage, the bird, dressed like a queen, in its bacon waistcoat, with home made chestnut and pork stuffing, that would put a Michelin starred restaurant to shame, all very seasonal, all very traditional.
Now, days later, With only the residual fallout to contend with, in the shape of seasonal cinnamon infused biscuits to soak up the afternoon tea, and some German marzipan stollen loaf to tickle the taste buds, I really thought I had seen and tasted the last of the turkey. Not so, she whose word is law, informs me that it's " Turkey for the next few days, until its all gone, no arguments".
I know that wasting food is not acceptable, and you cannot give it away, and as its only my old Dutch and me here in the family pile, its look like the old taste buds are in for a bit of a hammering, So its turkey dinners for the foreseeable future, and sandwiches, and raiding her fridge for the occasional nibbles, it looks like its, you guessed it, cold turkey slices.
The wonderful home made two year old brandy infused Christmas pud, way too big for all of us, also requires some serious close attention, combined with the remains of the Devon cream, will offset the now tedious remains of this years celebratory bird, and I must admit my old lady does do a good pud, that's one thing I can eat ad-infinitum.
There must be other blokes all over these islands in the same predicament, thousands of family men, all looking forward to the rest of the holidays, all hoping for a good cross section of seasonal nosh, and all getting an endless combination of turkey dinners, with chips, in soup, fried, with mash, battered, and with pickles and cheese, in rolls, and a 101 other combinations, until it's all gone, because as sure as god made little green apples, the lady's of the house will not allow any of it to go to waste, and its us chaps that have to bite the bullet, man up, and do the right thing.
Looking outside, grey, damp, and cold, another fowl day ahead...I know...I'll get me coat...TAXI!