(no subject)
Time is flying, and Christmas is almost here. Unlike a lot of people I know, I love Christmas. Not the endless 'late night shopping' and shameless attempts to guilt people into buying something they can't afford for someone who doesn't want it, but the spending time at home, visiting family and friends, great food (oh yes) and the Christmas tree. I have had my tree up for two weeks now. Vicki and I decorated it with mirrorballs, silver baubles and purple glittery baubles, plus a string of icicles. It's just missing a fairy from the top.
Our work Christmas night out actually happened in November, to coincide with a retirement, and was a cabaret night in Chorley which featured a fake Ronan Keating, Kylie Minogue and Robbie Williams. But the star of the show was the meal - the leek and chestnut soup was absolutely delicious, as was the Christmas pudding. Unfortunately we lost the mince pies as someone tried to take them home and crushed them.
Last night, Vicki, Ron and I went on our own little Christmas meal to the Strawbury Duck in Entwistle. Entwistle is, as they say, in the arse end of nowhere. Luckily Lee took us there and then buggered off to leave us to our girls night out. It was a treacherous journey through strange suddenly-descending banks of fog, but we arrived in one piece. For a starter I had duck terrine, with had plenty of onions and pistachios in it and was really very tasty. Ron had the best smoked salmon salad I have ever tasted, and Vicki went for the ever popular fan of melon. I opted for the traditional turkey dinner, as did Vicki, but Ron broke with tradition and ordered honey-glazed gammon. When the gammon arrived, Ron looked small in comparison to it, but tried her best to get through it. The turkey was excellent, the stuffing divine, and the parsnips perfect. Add to that the Christmas pudding, coffee and mince pies and you have one fat, aching but happy Vicky.
Ron was, unbelievably, desperate to go out dancing, but since I had not really had any time off since Monday (combined with the fact I was so fat I couldn't walk) I didn't want to go. Ron departed for Bolton to meet her friend Chris, and Vicki and I watched the results of X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing. I hadn't seen anything of X-Factor up to last night, but was horrified at G4, and equally appalled that Steve ruined his winner's song by giggling all the way through. Argh. Come Dancing was much better, especially Brucie's little dance with all the losers. (All you Americans just have no idea what you are missing here - Come Dancing is a show where celebrities have to compete against each other at ballroom dancing. It's inexplicably compulsive.)
This morning, despite the fact that Ron's 'one drink' turned into her rolling in at about 4am, we all went to the Christmas market at Ramsbottom. The steam train had just arrived when we got there, and it filled the road just ahead with huge clouds of steam, terrifying the children. The stalls selling black peas were up, the sheepdogs were out, Christmas trees for sale in the road, the cheese stall had free samples... excellent. There were so many tempting stalls... black pudding, venison haunches, a million varieties of home-made sausages, the ostrich meat stall, Uncle Peter's fudge stall (including the festive 'Figgy Pudding Fudge'), home-pressed apple juice, hand-made Christmas cards, scones, cakes, pies, every type of fowl imaginable. In the antiques shop, all the staff seemed to be dressed in Dickensian fashion, but for reasons still unknown they had a singing Santa hat which sang soulful versions of your favourite Christmas hits. It annoyed us.
In the end, Ron bought a whimberry pie, Vicki bought a bottle of apple and cinnamon juice and a few packets of biscuits. Ron has gone home, Vicki is having a driving lesson... and I should really be catching up on my work...
Our work Christmas night out actually happened in November, to coincide with a retirement, and was a cabaret night in Chorley which featured a fake Ronan Keating, Kylie Minogue and Robbie Williams. But the star of the show was the meal - the leek and chestnut soup was absolutely delicious, as was the Christmas pudding. Unfortunately we lost the mince pies as someone tried to take them home and crushed them.
Last night, Vicki, Ron and I went on our own little Christmas meal to the Strawbury Duck in Entwistle. Entwistle is, as they say, in the arse end of nowhere. Luckily Lee took us there and then buggered off to leave us to our girls night out. It was a treacherous journey through strange suddenly-descending banks of fog, but we arrived in one piece. For a starter I had duck terrine, with had plenty of onions and pistachios in it and was really very tasty. Ron had the best smoked salmon salad I have ever tasted, and Vicki went for the ever popular fan of melon. I opted for the traditional turkey dinner, as did Vicki, but Ron broke with tradition and ordered honey-glazed gammon. When the gammon arrived, Ron looked small in comparison to it, but tried her best to get through it. The turkey was excellent, the stuffing divine, and the parsnips perfect. Add to that the Christmas pudding, coffee and mince pies and you have one fat, aching but happy Vicky.
Ron was, unbelievably, desperate to go out dancing, but since I had not really had any time off since Monday (combined with the fact I was so fat I couldn't walk) I didn't want to go. Ron departed for Bolton to meet her friend Chris, and Vicki and I watched the results of X-Factor and Strictly Come Dancing. I hadn't seen anything of X-Factor up to last night, but was horrified at G4, and equally appalled that Steve ruined his winner's song by giggling all the way through. Argh. Come Dancing was much better, especially Brucie's little dance with all the losers. (All you Americans just have no idea what you are missing here - Come Dancing is a show where celebrities have to compete against each other at ballroom dancing. It's inexplicably compulsive.)
This morning, despite the fact that Ron's 'one drink' turned into her rolling in at about 4am, we all went to the Christmas market at Ramsbottom. The steam train had just arrived when we got there, and it filled the road just ahead with huge clouds of steam, terrifying the children. The stalls selling black peas were up, the sheepdogs were out, Christmas trees for sale in the road, the cheese stall had free samples... excellent. There were so many tempting stalls... black pudding, venison haunches, a million varieties of home-made sausages, the ostrich meat stall, Uncle Peter's fudge stall (including the festive 'Figgy Pudding Fudge'), home-pressed apple juice, hand-made Christmas cards, scones, cakes, pies, every type of fowl imaginable. In the antiques shop, all the staff seemed to be dressed in Dickensian fashion, but for reasons still unknown they had a singing Santa hat which sang soulful versions of your favourite Christmas hits. It annoyed us.
In the end, Ron bought a whimberry pie, Vicki bought a bottle of apple and cinnamon juice and a few packets of biscuits. Ron has gone home, Vicki is having a driving lesson... and I should really be catching up on my work...