Christmas Day

There seems to be a bit of a vogue at the moment for stuffing things into things and then eating them, rather like the Inuit do when they stuff a dead seal with seagulls, bury it, then dig it up and eat it some time later, raw. Yum!

So I've heard a lot of people saying that they were going to have an emu stuffed with a turkey stuffed with a grouse stuffed with a sparrow. Or something like that.

Here on Franks Mountain, we stuck to turkey. Though it was rather huge - almost 20lbs. Because, if you leave buying your turkey to Christmas Eve, like I did, there is a choice between tiny ones or massive ones. A massive one is, of course, much better value, and we all like turkey, so 20lbs it was.

I got up at half past six to do battle with it:

and it went in the oven at ten to seven, with bacon on top and onion inside.

Then we opened the presents, which we all enjoyed, particularly Wendy the kitten:

and we got the table ready: (that computer in the corner is where I write this blog)

Then, about five hours later, the turkey came out like this:

And we all ate far too much of everything:

Yes, it all looks much the same from year to year, Christmas in our house.

But this year, of course, it's different. We've all had a good time. But the Communist, my Dad, wasn't with us today, because he died on December 8th.

I said in my post yesterday that this house is full of the ghosts of Christmas past.

Here he is, two years ago, just finishing his Christmas dinner. He loved Christmas dinner, and he loved having his photo taken.