I’m a bit busy at the moment, so I thought I would show you a video of my cat until I get a bit of time to blog properly, but in the meantime I would like to take this opportunity to wish you all a Merry Christmas just in case I take a bit longer than expected.

Well, it’s that time of the year again when relations come over for a slap-up dinner, exchange pleasantries, bring some cheap shoddy late Christmas presents and then sod off until next year.

This really peeves me because they never invite me over to their place for a meal even when I drop large hints, like “It must be lovely in the dales (Derbyshire) this time of the year”, to which the reply is usually “Yes it is. Whats for pudding?”. Maybe I’m a soft touch, and I know I shouldn’t be, but I just can’t say no; and that’s not a hint for you lot to turn up for a meal either! You would be welcome of course, but give me some notice.

Like the Din-din Club I always cook a French menu, and I think that is the attraction. This year I planned to do Gordon Ramsays ‘pot au feu of pigeon de Bresse poached in a bouillon of cèpes served with choux farci‘ (That’s a mouthful in itself!) because pigeon meals are my favourite. Cold smoked pigeon breast on toast is my favourite snack.

Then an evil thought crossed my mind. I know how to stop them coming in the future without being impolite. When they arrive next weekend there wont be the lovely smell of cooking, no table laid out ready, the heating turned off and I shall hide the whisky, eau-de-vie (their favourite) and the wine and proclaim that I’m on the wagon, and stopped drinking booze as from Jan 1st, and the heating has broken down and I’m currently waiting for the engineer.

The pièce de résistance of the evening will be fish and chips, no ‘pudding’, just biscuits and cheapo cheese from the supermarket. Past it’s best by date of course.

When they arrive I will excuse myself saying that I will just nip to ‘Freds Cafe’ and get us some fish and chips using the excuse that the oven thermostat needs replacing and I didn’t dare try to cook with it.

Do you think I will get away with it? Or have I gone too far? Not enough? Perhaps I should just tell them to p**s off?

Don’t worry about them reading this because they aren’t on t’internet, or even got a computer. Not even slightly interested as far as I know. Well, they weren’t last year. . . . .

Afterthought: For the benefit of the non-french-speakers and others in the Colonies ‘pot au feu of pigeon de Bresse’ is just pigeon stew as made in Bresse, ‘bouillon of cèpes’ is mushroom broth, and ‘choux farci’ is simply stuffed cabbage.

Sounds better in French than just “Pigeon stew in mushroom broth with stuffed cabbage” dunnit?