Noel 2020 In Retrospect.

Monday.
Sent Robin Dominic out to buy two small Turkeys.  Disaster.  No Turkeys.  He came home clutching two Capons and looking apprehensive.  I told him not to worry.  I know what a Capon is.  It’s a Castrated Cockerel,  but I’ve never cooked one or even eaten one.  French Freezers must be stuffed full of Turkeys.

Google.  And not a bad word to say about them.  The Prince of all Birds.  Or Princess, depending on your stance on gender realignment.  Sadly, the Birds don’t get a say in the matter.

I stuffed it on Christmas Eve as is my wont of a lifetime and my neighbour cooked it.  A joint arrangement as Kate is better at Yorkshire Puddings than I am.  And her oven is bigger than mine  And I have to say that The Dinner was excellent.  No one mentioned the as ever marvellous stuffing which never tastes the same twice.

Christmas Day.
Lann Georges was deserted.  They were all recovering from their Christmas Eve Dinners.  These Dinners are a delight, but the idea never quite gelled with me.

Robin Dominic managed to stay reasonably sober.
Glen regaled us all in his inimitable and outspoken fashion.  Glen is a Cockney.  I told him that I am a Cockney too, but I don’t think he believed me.

Charlotte who is Kate’s daughter is pregnant so that was nice as well.  A new life on the way.

Glen left at about 5pm to go and feed his host of animals before it got dark and I came home to see how The Forum was getting on.  Yer, I know.  Get a life.  But this is my life and often grateful I am for it.

The Feast of Stephen.
Stephen was stoned to death on that day.  I bet you all didn’t know that.  But nothing new there.  Stephens have a habit of doing this.  May his soul rest in pieces.

Sunday Morning Early.
And time to reflect.
I got a book about The Wrens during Wartime.  Such a thoughtful present.  Apart from reading Requiem for a Wren I don’t know much about that time in The Navy.

Also a really nice and long, fluffy scarf as a present from The Food Bank.  What stoics they have all been during a difficult year.  All volunteers.

Last but not least, a lovely PM from the most unlikely of friends on The Forum.  It nearly made me cry.  And I am not prone to crying.

Not long until New Year.  Have a good one, you all.

PS.  O’Connor is absolutely fucking fine.  Dear of him.

Nothing About Anything.

I need to write about something.  Anything would do, but I just can’t think of anything.

It has rained in buckets for over a week now but there’s nothing new about that.

O’Connor can smell rain from twenty metres while buried in his blanket.  He doesn’t need to go and have a look.  Nothing new about that either.  He gives me the same old jaundiced snake eye when I say, ” Come on you, out we go”.  I stand in the garden getting drenched while he lurks in the doorway and pees against the door post.  Same old same old.  Jesus, he is so funny.

Apparently we are getting a bag of presents next week from The Food Bank.  Isn’t that nice.  Let’s hope it doesn’t include Yoghourt.  Anything else will be lovely.  I remain forever grateful.

Got two Vouchers for twenty Euros from The Marie due to No Dinner for The Elderly this year, both to be spent in Melrand.  Local businesses of course.  I think I might try The Butcher.  What I choose to buy doesn’t really matter because it is free.

The Butcher Perron has been around for a very long time.  It is the grandson Perron nowadays.  What a laugh he was when he was young.  Racing Trotters.  Those horses that trot by different feet.  No use for riding when they retire, so don’t ever be tempted to buy one, no matter how cheap. They finish up living in a large field and interminably eating.

I have just cut some Camellias for the house.  How very beautiful they are and they brighten Winter.  The Roses are done now, but there is always something in my very small garden.  Heaven knows how that happened because it was never by design.  I am a very messy gardener.  I just plant things and hope for the best.  Chrysanthemums remain my one abiding love.  Flowers for The Dead in France, but never for me.

Raining again.  Will this pile of rubbish about nothing satisfy me until Noel?

Wine.

I do not like Wine and never drink it, unless I am desperate and there is nothing else in the house.  Fortunately, this doesn’t happen very often.  This coming from a long term inhabitant of the country that is the font of all wine is little short of Blasphemy.  I never voice this opinion in public as I might get lynched.

But have you ever stopped to consider the people who purport to be experts on the subject?  They take a sip, swill it around in their mouths a bit and then spit it out into a bucket.  This does not surprise me in the least.  Best place for it.  But don’t put it on The Roses.  It will probably kill them.

Being a bit ignorant on the subject I once bought a bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pap from a discount store. I had actually heard of that one.  But I got the noughts on Francs mixed up so I got a bit of a shock when I discovered at the check out that it was £17 instead of the expected £1.70, especially as I was seriously broke at the time, although common sense should have told me otherwise, despite it being a discount store.  I lived on French Beans on Toast for the rest of the month.

Anyway, I was far too embarrassed to make a fuss and change my mind so I paid up and took it home, resolving to keep it for a special occasion.  That happened one dark night when I needed a lift and opened it because there wasn’t anything else.  It was disgusting.  Corked?  How would I know?  But it did have a proper cork.  Not many of those these days.  Perhaps because if it doesn’t have a cork then it can’t get corked. Did I finish the bottle?  I can’t remember.  Which leads me to suspect that I did.

Needless to say that I won’t be buying any more Chateau Neuf du Pap in a hurry.
These days I drink Kirsche which is someone’s weird idea of Sherry and it tastes alright with a lot of fruit juice and water.  Although I still prefer Sherry.

Put recycled Tea on Roses.  My Roses are wonderful.