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LIVE24SEVEN // Local C LAI R E IN THE COUNT Y


The Goose Is Getting Fat... And So Am I!


Claire Thayers vows to lose weight before the Christmas gluttony – and every year she says, she fails


Why do we do it – is it all those expensive TV ads, all our favourite supermarkets trying to outdo each other? Perfect dining rooms, with enormous fat, golden, mouth- watering birds being carved at tables laden with festive foods, tempting tipples, fantastic flowers, coordinated crackers and perfect people.


The reality as we know, is far from that. In our house, it is all down to me and don’t get me wrong I love having people for Christmas lunch but we look a little different to those on the TV.


Let me share this vision of beauty – me in my Christmas jumper (why do I wear it when the temperature in the kitchen is hotter than the devils kitchen?). Bright red face, mascara dripping into the gravy, every pot and pan scattered around the kitchen. I know, I can hear you shouting at me... it is all in the preparation and I should have followed delectable Delia and cooked it all and frozen it all, a week before – but with presents to buy, things to do when is there time?


Rushing between oven, microwave, and steamer, my timings list getting splattered with bread sauce and turkey fat, with the ink run and the paper ripped. I dash around the kitchen, often with bottle in hand, taking swigs to get me through it somehow, god knows how... I manage to get it ALL on the table, ALL at the same time and ALL at the same temperature! (Top tip – don’t worry about starters, just leave blinis, sour cream and smoked salmon in the lounge for everyone to gorge on, along with the chocolate that everyone had in their stockings, whilst crying over those less fortunate.)


THEN they descend, like ravenous locusts... piling food on top of food; the plates are never big enough. I will be honest, it’s far


/ 84


from pretty, as everyone helps themselves, each plate looking more like a trough, an unrecognisable mix of everything, errant sprouts spilling onto the bright white cloth, cranberry sauce dripping, gravy splattering – nothing like those beautifully presented dishes on TV.


Half way through the meal I ALWAYS remember I have left the stuffing in the oven and I manage to salvage it, burnt and inedible - no one wants it, no one likes it - but one has to make one’s own stuffing on Christmas day - god only knows why – because my mother did - so I always have, every year - it will hit the bin, because it always does.


The trauma of getting it all off the table, leaves me in even more of a sweat. Leftover food is muddled up with bits of cracker, the odd marble, random hair clip and soggy joke. They are never funny – all those trees cut down and for what... note to self no more crackers.


Christmas pudding. Now that’s always a disappointment even though I always make my own, months in advance. It is just another family tradition and we always wish as we stir. (Please note, it never works for me, same wish every year and I am still waiting for the DB9 to be delivered with a red bow on Christmas morning, which never arrives!)


I digress. I will be found, in the corner of the kitchen, amongst the mountain of washing up, pouring the brandy over a big fat pud, trying to light it, without setting fire to my eyebrows and the annual challenge of getting it to the table flaming and looking gorgeous – with holly on the top. It NEVER does and everyone is always too full to eat it and I can guarantee the brandy butter will still be in the fridge mid February.


Cheese, always Stilton... always left... coffee, Bendicks mints – because you just have to and a glass of port... or two... or three.


Then finally, it is time for me to crash; a sweaty heap of food splattered, over stuffed, Christmas jumper wearing pile of lard and oh boy do I crash. I am never awake to see the Queen’s speech.


This year, I intend to do things differently... stuff the stuffing, sod the sprouts, ?*?! off pud – I am off to do some volunteering and if anyone is brave enough to take me, wearing that jumper and if they won’t, I can donate all the money I would have spent on that food to do some good and it will stop me putting weight on. Time to create some new family traditions, so watch this space…


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