Hostess with the festive mostess (apply Prosecco)
Obviously, as the member of my extended family with the smallest house, the least amount of chairs, the most miserly selection of useful cooking equipment, a broken oven, a reputation for never having knowingly used a set of kitchen scales, a timer or a cookbook and a well-earned crown for being late for everything - it makes complete sense for me to host Christmas for all this year.
I admit I don’t remember making a careful and considered decision to be hostess with the festive mostess.
But in a fit of generosity, possibly fuelled by early Christmas spirits, I suffered an unwise moment of largesse and invited the lot of them.
Fortunately they didn’t all say yes .
Fortunately because my sitting room fits a maximum of eight, using all available floor space.
I’m already going to have to bring the outdoor furniture indoors and make children sit on their own special table, possibly in the garage.
So I’ve gone ahead and ordered a turkey which will potentially not fit in my broken oven, as I picked one large enough to be mistaken for an Emu and would feed all of the X-factor finalists at once, should they fall on hard times.
Though turkey ordering sounds organised, that is so far the extent of my Christmas preparations (although the oven mending company is enroute.)
I am not known for my forward planning, food-wise.
We may have been planning for Christmas in our newsrooms since August, but I had a shock realisation on Monday that December 25 is actually next week and with it a minor panic attack which saw me clambering into my loft and throwing out boxes of decorations, smashing half in the process (it is a two man job, on reflection).
Last year I was simply responsible for bringing along the traditional family trifle, which is stressful enough as I try to remember the ingredients while actually in the supermarket on Christmas Eve every year.
I also always have to borrow a dish from my brother (though a new one would cost just £4.)
And have you every tried to carry a wobbly trifle in a car?
I’ll have a large Prosecco please.