St Nick’s Day At Chez Strachan

With yesterday being Christmas Day, akin to Scrooge when affording Bob Cratchit a hiatus in A Christmas Carol, I allowed myself a day away from the writing desk. This gesture allowing me to drink, eat and be merry…… Actually, if truth be told, it allowed me to drink, eat and be merry earlier than I’d normally partake on a normal day….. Although, the jury’s still out on whether GJ Strachan ever reaches the emotive heights of merry.

Yours truly spent a quiet St Nick’s Day at my mater’s home on the Leeds/Wakefield borders. Upon reveille, cooking myself a English breakfast; fodder which I demolished in trademark scattergun fashion. My crime against kitchen table etiquette subsequently succeeded by the opening of Christmas gifts.

Amongst these generous benefactions, GJ Strachan was in receipt a book of quotations, materials for sketching, an expensive bottle of red wine, in addition to a selection of hot chilly jams (which’s been a catalyst to me now storing loo roll in the fridge).

Despite earlier describing the bottle as expensive, I’ve actually no real idea of the red wine’s price. My proffering borne purely from the fact it appears more expensive than the plonk the author normally purchases.

By that I mean it’s got a cork stopper instead of screw top, it’s not supermarket branded, or titled ‘I Can’t Believe I Can Get P***ed On This’, or contains a higher anti-freeze content than my car radiator.

If I’m mistaken and this corked carafe isn’t from the Rothschild wine cellar, I’d suggest my son Jonny and fiancee Jenny up their present procurement game. I make this point as, if this turns out to be a ‘cheap tack’ bottle of red, they’ll have invested significantly less than yours truly forked out for their festive trinkets.

Pedantic of me I know; however, something they perhaps need to address going forward?!….. At this juncture, before they disown me, I best highlight to the affianced I was only kidding,…… Oh, I’ve just heard they already have!!

As a festive gift I also received a package of piping hot chilly pork scratchings, which after being unwrapped was a catalyst to my posterior filing a restraining order, demanding I refrain from consuming these snacks of collateral soreness.

Following the unwrapping of GJ Strachan’s yuletide offerings, a ceremony undertaken accompanied by a lone piper tooting the moving festive lament ‘There’s Always Snow in Caledonia’, yours truly set about preparing the Christmas Day dinner.

Upon commencing this culinary undertaking, mater and me agreeing upon an eta of Xmas tuck troughing at 3pm. The matriarch making this decision while a single tear navigated south on her visage; a consequence of the piper’s beautiful portrayal of the Scottish folk refrain. A few minutes later it was the bagpipe player whose eyes were leaking when I told him he wasn’t welcome to share our festive feast.

As the clock struck 3pm, GJ Strachan served the yuletide dinner with a great deal more finesse than the earlier ungentlemanly scoffing of his breakfast fry up. To be candid, to be more graceless at serving the Christmas meal than I was at consuming my Full English, I’d had had to deliver the turkey dinner upon a frisbee….. One that I’d hurled from the dining room door.

Not wishing to join Mrs Strachan senior for her Christmas soap opera fest in the evening, I sat in the dining room watching movies on Apple TV. These old but classic movies including a brace of Sean Connery Bond movies I’ve witnessed a score times, or more, but to my mind remain “Ssssshplendid, Felix!”

Hope your Christmas Day brought you a day of fulfilled dreams….. Well, apart from the one you had last Wednesday, which was quite frankly disgraceful!

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