Not Officially A White Christmas

Christmas Day dawns cold but dry, so not officially a white Christmas but walking the dogs through snow covered Wollaton Park this morning it might as well be.

Presents are unwrapped, my parents arrive and then we head to the Plough for the traditional lunchtime tipple and leave the dogs guarding the goose. Sort of. Not that it’s going anywhere fast.

My attempted livening up of the pigs in blankets with sage, honey and black pepper doesn’t quite work, they taste just the same as usual but never mind, everyone seems to like them.

We are a more divided family on the Christmas pudding front. Christmas isn’t Christmas without rum sauce. Well that's my opinion. Anything else is sacrilege but Son has cream on his, L wants ice cream on hers. Some people. Daughter would probably have tomato sauce on hers if we let her but instead probably settles for a bit of everything.

(Saturday 25th December)

Out Of Season

There’s a bit of a commotion outside as I get ready for work this morning. L has only just taken MD out seconds earlier; surely he can’t be in trouble already... Suddenly he is hauled back through the front door in disgrace. In his defence I would say that it was the fault of a particular Jack Russell that had attacked him recently and had chosen that precise moment to walk down our street. So hardly surprising MD was gunning for him. If he’s entitled to gun for anyone, it must be that Jack Russell.

A disappointing pub lunch. Standards aren’t what they used to be. Cold pasta. Yum. Should have complained really but we were in a rush.

Squash. I’m back on a roll and get my one game. It really should have been two. The post-game is good too. Free chip butties in the pub and 6.4% ale on the bar. A sort of Christmas cake and rum sauce flavour. A bit out of season perhaps but very nice. Unfortunately I only get to sip L’s, as I’m driving.