On Christmas Day morning, my partner had begun to make the Christmas dinner for his parents. His parents were at Church heavily involved in the Christmas Day services. I was stressed to say the least. Especially at this time. The house was cleaned to the highest degree, the dinner table gleaming with cutlery and shiny Xmas decorations, our Christmas Tree twinkled with lights in the corner of the living room. It was all festive.
My partner was a good cook and enjoyed cooking. Me .. not so much. However, my dish was a variation of Christmas pudding and I was determined it would be a big success.
We both wanted to do more challenging dishes than normal so I had selected a pudding from the local supermarket Christmas magazine – a sort of filo pastry version of a mince pie pudding.
To get us in the party mood, my partner had got out the red wine so we could drink as we cooked. So civilised. The clock was ticking and time was getting on. When I finally had my pudding prepared. I looked at it and then at the picture in the magazine and then looked at my pudding again, I burst into tears. My pudding didn’t look like the magazine’s version at all. I couldn’t stop crying. Tears just ran down my face and I was distraught. Because at this point I was actually very, very drunk. Quickly my partner encouraged me to go into the living room, sit down, drink water and watch TV until his parents arrived.
My pudding was lovely. Everyone loved it. Though I think they would have preferred the old fashioned Christmas pudding. I was quite quiet that day. I smiled and nodded a fair bit. Listening very keenly. The reason. Because I was experiencing one of the worst hangovers I had ever had!
High Days and Holidays 