Fat man in training

We had the annual trying-out-of-Christmas-cooking at Ted and Beryls yesterday. It’s got a bit more subdued in recent years due to their advancing age and increased frailty, but it’s still a welcome day on the calendar and an important part of our December traditions. The highlight this year was the punch - a curious mixture of advocaat, rum, mulled wine, lemonade and several weird spices that was incredibly sweet, incredibly potent, and went down better than a hot air balloon that has been spiked by a pterodactyl. There were also four different types of sausage roll, so I’ve eaten enough meat and pastry to last until Easter amd consequently woken up with indigestion. I can’t remember the exact details, but one of them was sage and onion sausagemeat, one was pork, apple and chutney, and another one had some kind of venison in it. Every one a winner, though, and Beryl insisted we kept eating them as nothing that she’d made would last until Christmas and she’d be doing a fresh batch of everything sometime around the 23rd. I waded in with enthusiasm and it all just blended into one wonderful taste in the end. I wouldn’t say it affected my innards, but at one point on the way home Philippa had to get out of the car and walk around because the smells I produced were so toxic.
I love Christmas. 

RC 11-12-17