Thursday December 25, 2008
Christmas Day
Lunch was accomplished, in both senses of the word. Half an hour late, so I got to see the Queen with a large kitchen spoon in my hand. And, another year of cooking experience under my belt, literally, yielded the best, sweetest, tenderest roast chicken we’ve ever had.
“That was superb,” Graham said.
“Thanks.”
“No, really. Very, very good.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m just a little too full to be enthusiastic in any real sense of the word.”
“Me too. Tell you what, let’s leave the dishes and have a good siesta.”
And that is what we did.
Now, having picked over the chicken carcase and selected mild things from the big stack of goodies in the fridge, we’re just about flummoxed. No good for anything at all but flopping in front of the TV.
“What did you do with the remote?” Graham asked a little while ago.
“Is Dolly on the sofa?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll be sleeping on it, then.”
