Puddings are a Way of Life

Why is it fine dining comes with desserts but not puddings?
Desserts can be ok. They're all right. But I like a proper pudding. Now maybe it's the Yorkshire in me, but there's nothing better than a good rhubarb crumble, or apple pie. A decent bread and butter pudding satisfies wonderfully. As does rice pudding. Good thick rice pudding, with that layer of skin that few people like, so I get it all to myself.

I made a lovely apple and rhubarb pudding just the other week. I'm no Delia Smith or Jamie Oliver. I make a decent ham sandwich and an edible chilli. But I do make some damn good puddings, if I do say so myself. It's Christmas and as usual I'm going to be stuck with fruit cake (that I don't like) and fancy desserts.

Time to pick some more rhubarb and make some more crumble I reckon.

Scrumptious.

Christmas Time. Bah-bleedin'-Humbug!

Christmas isn't a time I particularly enjoy. Lots of false happiness, being extra friendly to random people. Expectations of cards, feeling guilty if you don't send cards to the right people.

The horror of receiving a card or a gift from someone and not having got them something in return.

I'm not a fan of the festive period.
There is always a day or two where I do get caught up in all that extra joyfulness that hovers around people. And I love giving presents and seeing the happiness on people's faces when they get something that they didn't even know they wanted. Presents can be given at any time of the year. Why save up for months for one day?

I spent Christmas by myself one year. I loved it. There was no-one to please but myself. I chose what to watch on the TV, made myself a lovely pizza for lunch. Had a few beers, had a nap. Phoned the important people.

Every Christmas since I get the same questions.
'Why'd you want to be by yourself?'
'You can come to us if you have nowhere else to go'
'Don't be miserable. It's not fair on anybody else'

Why should I let guilt and other people stop me spending the Christmas season as I wish? Because I care about them, I suppose. And I do usually end up enjoying the day, for the most part.

Christmas is coming. Time for the enforced jollity.

Ho ho ho.