The smell of raw turkey

Up early on Christmas Eve. Lorraine, Beth and I went off to collect the turkey from the Choice Cuts butcher first thing. We were made to educate our noses to the smell of a fresh turkey. Very fresh, but distinct. Told a parable about how certain mother in laws are unable to recognise the smell of fresh turkeys, and reduce daughters-in-law to tears and visions of a spoiled Christmas because of it. Box tied up securely as apparently a turkey was dropped outside the shop once, to great consternation.

On return Lorraine and I cooked up a big breakfast for everyone, I was on enjoyable griddle duties, sizzling up lots of newly bought sausages and bacon, while Lorraine scrambled eggs and made toast. Cooking for eight is not something I've done much. It all gets quite industrial in scale.

Then fond farewells to Sam and Jade, who were taking off back to London. Lorraine and I drove them to the station. Lovely to see both of them.

A sudden tiredness this afternoon and slept for an hour. Spoke to Mum, who said Mason is still in hospital, and will be there over Christmas too which is a bit dismal. The Tobster making his way to Blighty though today, which is cheering.

Wrapped Lorraine's presents. And still the sense of lots to be done.

At tea time, Lorraine and I drove off to Anton's place to drop off presents for the Klaudia and Oskar. Had a quick glass of festive bubbly cheer with Anne, who was nursing a cold, and with Brian and Anna. Klaudia and Oskar full of pre-Christmas excitability, which manifested itself in insisting on holding my hands and then walking up my body to flip over. This done several times by both.

Home again, for supper of chicken stew and baked potatoes.  Then a long and enjoyable game of Uno, at which I came last by some distance. To bed.