A Christmas Trifle, The Making Of

All appearances to the contrary, I have not been drinking. The reindeer ear-thingy-antler-whatsits belong to The Neph … they play a Christmas medley and have flashing lights. I do believe, if used for an extended period of time (say, ten minutes) they could lead to suicide or climbing a clocktower … Why are they on my head? Because (a) they are shiny, and (b) it embarrassed The Neph and I have apparently reached the age where I enjoy embarrassing young people. Wow, it happened a lot sooner than I thought it would. The kid, to his credit, recovered quickly with “I think most of those presents must be for me. I have an instinct about these things, y’know.”

But I digress …

Christmas has been declared ‘on’ here … usually, we are a 25th December Christmas family but, due to a range of circumstances, tomorrow will be too busy to allow the usual present-delivery, wrapping-paper-destruction maelstrom that occurs Chez Slatter. So we did a Christmas eve demolition … loads of awesome presently goodness, including an AMAZING necklace from Second Brain and fab earrings from Housemate (which are typewriter keys from an old Remington) – photos to follow tomorrow when the flash doesn’t keep blinding me. Also included in the gravy boat of awesome were the following:

Proof, if of nothing else, that my family has known me for too long.

There are very few things I am trusted to do in my mother’s kitchen – probably quite rightly as she remembers some of my early cooking disasters (a bar cake that could have been used to sink the Bismarck, muffins that became burnt offerings but were in no way a sweet savour unto the Lord or anybody else). I’d also like to point out that she warned me, when I started this post “not to tell lies about your mother! Or I will haunt you!” If there’s ever been any doubt that I’m Betty’s child, let it be dismissed.
However, about seven years ago I inherited the mantle of Chief Trifle Maker from my Grandmother. So once a year it is my sacred duty to make the Christmas Trifle … with my mother standing over my shoulder reminding me not to put too much sherry on the alcoholic one*, but to make sure there’s enough orange juice on the non-alcoholic one … every year I say I’m not going to put cream in the middle bits coz it means we run  out of cream for the top, and every year I am asked if I put enough cream in the middle bit. But somehow it turns out – possibly because no open flame or heat of any kind is involved … and because essentially what one is creating is a mess and that’s where I am a champion. So at the end of it all, we get this (waiting for the cream):
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Fantabulous Kwanza, etc, everyone. And have a great 2010.


* My father and I always finish the sherry trifle for breakfast on Boxing Day. It’s just what we do. Let us have our traditions.

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