Advent Day Nine

Hello Friends!

Thank you for your comments on yesterday's Storm Darragh update. South and West Wales seem to have borne the brunt of it, but I got lucky and came through relatively unscathed.  I must now make sure I put together an updated emergency kit of supplies for it is bound to happen again!  Hopefully not as bad, and hopefully not for a long time but I must be prepared for things have changed since the last time I needed emergency supplies, and not only my health issues.  For example, these days with so many things running on rechargeable batteries it is advisable to keep a fully charged recharging power pack.  It is also important now that BT's new and "improved" Digital Voice which does not allow one to make phone calls if there is a power cut, to have a fully charged mobile phone on hand. My DAB Radio runs off mains and battery, however when on battery power it only last about an hour so it might be a good idea to get a solar and wind up powered radio.  Just in cases.  Trouble is, the weather is more and more unpredictable these days.  Oh, and an updated spare few days of medication in case of emergency evacuation.  The emergency phone list needs updating too!  So much to think about.

I have had it up to here on social media with all the people in my area who bleat on about checking in on your older, more vulnerable, or disabled neighbours but did one of them pick up the phone to check in on me?  No, they did not.  Let's get back to the Blogmass, shall we?

Boxing Day was an altogether different day from Christmas Day.  Unless it fell on a Sunday {when it was moved to Monday in lieu} and there was church, we all had a glorious lie in, the adults not getting up until well after eight o'clock and I was left in my cosy, warm bed until nine!  

It was a day of complete relaxation, a very different day to Christmas Day with all the preparations and cooking followed by clearing away the dishes with all the fraught tension of getting everything ready together and on time.

Daddy would often go for a long walk with the dogs after breakfast.  He was a quick walker and in about an hour he could cover six or more miles.  Although he enjoyed Christmas Day at home, he was a very active, outdoor man and to be cooped up indoors two days in a row was his worst nightmare.  When I was old enough and my short, little legs could keep up I would often go with him.  Of course, I'd end up being carried.  After traipsing the byways around the village, we would come home, huffing and puffing our way up the hill ready for a mug of fresh, steaming hot coffee and yet more mince pies.  When I was old enough, I would join Daddy in sipping a small glass of DeKuyper Cherry or Apricot Brandy {I favoured Cherry, and still do, it is the Christmas drink for me}  We'd pick at a chocolate or two, maybe a handful of nuts and a satsuma while waiting for lunch.

A short while later, lunch was ready, and despite our mid morning snack fest, so were we!  Our traditional Boxing Day lunch was a simple meal of cold cuts of meat and leftover turkey served with reheated leftover vegetables in the form of Bubble and Squeak, and my very favourite fried patties of mashed potato and swede cooked until the outside was slightly caramelised. Sometimes, we'd have a fresh laid fried egg, unctuous and oozing, for the hens kept on laying despite the overflowing pantry of food.  There were dishes of stuffing, pickled onions, Branston Pickle, and quartered tomatoes for those who wanted to help themselves.  Don't judge me, I loved Boxing Day lunch more than I enjoyed Christmas Day Dinner.  There's something about leftovers that is just so good.

Pudding was left over Christmas Pudding with a boat of fresh Brandy Sauce.  We pulled the leftover Christmas crackers too.

Clearing up was much quicker, and it was not long after lunch before the four of us were out of the door and off for a leisurely Boxing Day stroll, for my mother and grandmother would never keep up the pace at which Daddy and I walked in the morning.  We'd bump into neighbours and fellow villagers, everyone out with the same purpose, to try and walk off some of the excesses of the last two days.  Pleasantries and compliments of the season were exchanged, and a couple of chilly hours later we'd return home, the fire would be stoked and roaring it would warm the room for the evening, the kettle was on, tea was brewing within ten minutes and in no time at all we were munching on more mince pies that had been warmed in the oven while the tea was being made, and a dollop of Brandy Butter was added under the crispy lid.  This time, the pies had to be eaten with a spoon as the butter slowly melted into a pale golden pool of liquor soaking into the pastry.  

My father and grandmother both dozed off, my mother would read and I would begin the task of writing out by hand the dozen or so thank you notes to relatives for the lovely and thoughtful gifts I had received.

By this time, I think there were no more than half a dozen mince pies left in the pantry.  I nibbled on one while writing my letters.

In the blink of an eye, it was tea time!  Leftovers again!  Hurrah!  This time, my most favourite of all the Christmas meals, the Boxing Day Sandwich!  Two slices of bread, not to thick, and buttered of course, and filled with sliced, cold leftover turkey and a thin slice of stuffing, topped with Branston Pickle, serve with some lightly salted plain crisps and pickled onions.  My idea of heaven on a plate.  Of course I haven't eaten one in years as a vegetarian, but oh! the memories!

Where my mother had found the time on Christmas Day I will never know, but somehow she managed to squeeze into the busy day the time to make a big bowl of Sherry Trifle ready for the following day, for no Boxing Day tea was complete without a dish of Sherry Trifle.  Ours was the whole nine yards, prepared in a crystal bowl that was my great grandmothers.  It was layered thus:  trifle sponges that were split open and spread with strawberry jam, doused generously with sherry, then the layer of fruit {either mandarins, peaches or fruit cocktail}.  Next came a layer of glistening red jelly carefully poured so as not to disturb the previous layers.  Once set, this was topped with thick, golden yellow custard, and finally a generous layer of whipped cream garnished with either flaked almonds, maraschino cherries or hundreds and thousands.  

Nothing can beat the sound of that first big spoonful of trifle as it makes that slurpy schlooop noise as it is separated from the bowl!  A jug of pouring cream sat alongside for anyone who needed more.  This seasonal treat was then followed by even more deliciousness in the form of a slice of Christmas cake for anyone greedy enough or who had room left!

Sated to bursting point, we'd settle in for the evening, the big light turned off, sitting in the glow of the fire and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the window while we watched one of the big films that became a feature of Christmas Day and Boxing Day television viewing.  At intervals through the evening, my mother passed around one of the many boxes of chocolates for us to pick a favourite treat.  To this day, my favourites have always come from the Cadbury's Milk Tray box.  

How we ate all that food goes beyond me, but eat it we did and it was a thing you would find repeated in most houses across the land.

Until next time  . . .