As Georgie and Donnie slaved over the oven and stove knocking up a superb Christmas lunch, I stayed clear of the activity by remaining perched in my kitchen chair, occasionally making myself useful by laying slices of smoked salmon onto plates and chopping up a lemon. Exhausted by these travails, I slowly recovered by swigging vin rouge. And champagne.
Throughout these proceedings, to further keep myself occupied as the diligent duo grafted away, I took a few snaps to record the culinary activity for posterity. This didn't really please Georgie due to her fear that I might load the photos onto Facebook where the whole world and his dog (including her chums) could then witness the somewhat rustic ambience of our cuisine. 'Modern' isn't exactly a word that comes to mind when describing this room. But we simple peasants like it. Well, I do. It's homely and functional. Warm too when the stove's burning up logs. So there.
Normally we knock up our grub and then nosh it upstairs in front of the telly (using just a fork while the left hand steadies to plate - spag bol, curry, etc., our normal fayre, rarely requires fork AND knife). However, on this auspicious occasion we decided to nosh at the kitchen table, thus avoiding the likelihood of hot spillage onto laps while attacking with knife and fork (thereby not having a spare hand to steady a wobbly platter). And a splendid lunch it was too.
For dessert we headed upstairs and parked ourselves in front of the gogglebox where we stuffed our faces with mince pies, Chirstmas pud and ice cream. Mince pies and Christmas pud?! In France?! Oui! I'd lashed out a few weeks back on an online order from the magnificent Walker's of Scotland. Bought some Christmas cake, chocolate mint and chocolate ginger biccies too. Hang the expense! (£40 well spent, including postage.)
'Twas a Christmas to remember. Very simple. No stress. Just took it easy. Well, I took it easy, being a slob. Was supposed to visit the neighbours at around sevenish in the evening. Didn't quite make it. Dynamite wouldn't have budged me off the sofa. Shall have to pop in later to apologise for a no show. Mind you, they (Isabelle and Christian) apparently had a dozen family members for lunch, and a few more scheduled for a visit in the evening. So maybe our absence won't matter. Much. If at all. Maybe.
