Oh dear. Lily has succumbed to a cold. Her mischeivous nature has temporarily disappeared, she has flopped onto the sofa like a rag doll, refuses to eat and talks in a croaky voice that is distressing, but also undeniably cute.
I too, feel the first symptoms of a winter cold, a nagging soreness in my throat, my immune system on amber alert, but I keep my mild manflu (an oxymoron, I know) hidden, lest I am chucked into my wife’s makeshift isolation ward at the back of the garden. Lily makes a recovery by late morning, so I leave her making cakes with mum whilst I take Daisy shopping at Waitrose. I pre-order the Xmas turkey, which ought to be a straightforward task, although the endless varieties on offer means that I spend ages dithering between a free range bronze and an organic, pre-plucked something-or-other. I feel like rebelling and ordering a goose, but that would be far too Dickensian.
In the evening, I rustle up a nice Chinese 5-spice duck with star anise and bok choi, washed down with a New Zealand Cabernet that has too much alcohol. We watch a bit of “Strictly Come Dancing”, which is about as exciting as a brick, and then the brilliant “The Thick Of It”, which seems to contain even more four-letter expletives than usual. Still the funniest thing on TV though.
Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: | flu, xmas turkey
