Uh-oh. We were going to do our Christmas duck with an orange and port sauce. But when you find yourself uttering sentences like, "Well, are we still going to glaze it with marmalade, or do that with apricot jam as well?", you know insufficient forward planning has been engaged in. Never mind. I'm sure apricot jam will be just as good
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But you're right. The practice is painful.
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There was an odd moment of synchronicity in which I bought Dad a book called "Why Everything is Shit Nowadays" and he bought me, completely independently, the "Encyclopedia of Shite".
Of the family, only I went to church - Christmas Day Matins, so it's kind of my job. The rest of my family missed the marvel of the day - the early afternoon sunshine through the stained glass casting its sparkling iridescences onto the white pillars along the nave of St. Peter's.
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I like the sound of the Matins experience, and I hope it went well for you.
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Work is also the only reason my Xmas involved the Queen's Speech, but unlike (I'm guessing) everyone else who included that in their response, I had to sign the Official Secrets Act (again!) to get hold of it...
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