Day 505 Mashed.

25th December 2018

What a great day, we all opened our presents in the morning, sharing greetings with my family in the UK.

Kelli made the last of the food, a slaw that tasted of heaven, then we loaded up the truck and drove up the road to the family homestead.

There began the carefully orchestrated use of the cooker to heat up our food and to cook theirs. Images of my own childhood Christmas, where my mother would be squeezing the turkey into the oven at six in the morning came to mind. The kitchen would be filled with steam, like being trapped in a Turkish Bath. Tempers would get heated, like the boiling vegetables, but eventually every thing turned out fine. There would be the ceremonial opening of the bottle of wine, where the cork would usually snap halfway, and my dad cursing the Spanish for using cheap cork, but they were great memories.

We were allowed to bring wine to the Bulthouse table for the first time in living memory. Long considered to be evil in a Cristian home, Dave gave his blessing, maybe scared I would have a hissy fit, but after eighty years his beliefs may have softened.

Although there was no snow, there was a flurry of flakes that gave an appearance of a winter scene.

The food Kelli had slaved over was fabulous, the roasted vegetables, sprouts, stuffing, and especially the mashed potatoes were devoured entirely, mmmm!