Wednesday 25th December 2019

Christmas Day.

And what will become known as Christmas Panic 2019.

But more of that later.

Because, at first, all was going so well.

Jen likes to have two meats at Christmas; turkey and beef, so when we did it last year in her twin ovened stove, the top one was a little uncontrolable, mainly due to the fact Jen doesn't use it that much.

So I cracked a plan for this year; cook the 13 pound turkey at Jen's and cook the beef here, then when the beef was ready, take it to Jen's to cook the veg, dish up and eat. I mean, what could go wrong?

We got up at just gone seven, and after wishing each other Merry Christmas. Again. I cook bacon butties and fresh brews for breakfast.

After showers we take the turkey and a few other things to Jen; she had warmed the oven up, she said, so I turned the dial to 190 degrees, put the turkey in and shut the door.

Perfect.

After an hour, I went back home to cook the beef, giving Jools and Jen instructions what to do with the veg and in three and a half hours, take the silver foil off the turkey.

Back home i warm the oven, season the joint and put it in the oven. Soon it smelt wonderful. All I had to do was wait for two and a half hours until it was done.

All going so well.

And then the phone rang just after one.

Turns out i had turned the top oven on, not the lower oven, and they had not checked on the turkey for three hours, and when they did, it looked pallid and uncooked.

EEEEK!

It was now cooking they said.

Nothing to do that says leave for three hours until it was cooked. We would just have to have beef.

With it being cooked, I packed the wrapped tray ito the back of the car and drove to Jen's, where it was chaos. But we needed to come up with a plan if we were to eat in an hour.

Jen got the hostess trolley out to put the beef in.

In the oven the turkey was cooking and looked well advanced, but we had no thermometer to test how cooked it was. With one oven full of turkey, that meant either the roast potatoes of Yorkshire Puddings would have to be scrubbed; the puddings lost.

So, I warmed the goose fat, basted the spuds and put them in the top oven. Soon they were sizzling.

The veg was cut up and put in the steamer. Soon they were cooking too.

I make the gravy, and all seemed to be back on track.

The stuffing balls went in with the spuds. And then Jen realised the pigs in blankets were in the fridge.

She was wrong, they were in the freezer.

She defrosted them in the microwave, then added below the turkey to cook.

At three, with me sipping on a pink of silly strong Belgian beer, we dish up. Jen's neighbour, Tony, didn't like beef, was the turkey edible? Well, the outer part should be, I said hopefully.

I carved the beef, then tried the turkey, it looked OK. I can't explain why, but it was cooked through. So, having already put a full portion of beef on the plates, I added turkey on each. The stuffing balls. Then pigs in blankets.

And then there was the veg. Turned out we didn't need puddings after all.

We sat down to eat, after a fraught 90 minutes, but all cooked and wonderful.

Merry Christmas.

We eat, drink and become merrier.

As you do.

Jen had made deserts, Champagne jellies, in cocktail glasses. I even have those.

We retire to the living room where Strictly Christmas Come Dancing at Christmas was on. I never saw the point, but the others liked it.

I wasn't in the mood for doing any ballroom dancing, not after Christmas dinner anyway.

After that, Jools and I pour ourselves into the car and go home, leaving much of what we took there behind. We can get it tomorrow. As it seems we're doing it all again. With cold cuts.

Back home, we have a coffee and watch the final two episodes of His Dark Materials, and Christmas Day came to an end?

Slice of cake?

Why not.