Wordsley, Stourbridge, England: 10 degrees, cold, rainy and dreary.
My mother and I had prepared the leg of lamb on Christmas Eve.
Essentially, it involved taking it out of its plastic, cleaning and drying it, covering it with salt, pepper, lemon juice, and olive oil, and making slits in the meat to insert small slices of garlic.
We also placed a layer of sliced onion rings at the bottom of an aluminium baking tray. My mother peeled and chopped the vegetables; my task with the lamb took no more than half an hour at most, but it was a help to my mother.
On Christmas morning, I was slow to get out of bed. I think it was the drink from the day before; even though it wasn’t much, I’m not used to it anymore, and my age is definitely catching up with me. I finally got up at 8:30, and my mother got up around 9:00.
I made a cup of tea for both of us, and we sat downstairs in the back living room to open the presents. My mother settled into her chair in the far back corner, while I turned my chair around to face her. In addition to the present I had bought for her, she also had a few gifts from friends and neighbours. She was more enthusiastic about opening the presents than I was, like a five-year-old child, though in a lovely way.
She gave me my present, a silver-plated travel clock that you can insert a photo into, and some money. She told me she loved my gift for her: the small ornaments of a white dog lying down, the esoteric stones, and a bottle of washing-up liquid, which was a bit of a joke. She adored them all.
I noticed a little later that she cried; I think it was because she had someone from the family near her during Christmas, along with the affection of the presents. Even though they weren’t of any great monetary value, they came from the heart, and I believe she felt that.
A little later, after a great deal of verbal and mental reminiscing with my mother, I went out for a drink at two nearby pubs. Again, as the day before, the first was a fun pub and the second a more low-key traditional family pub.
The fun pub was nice, but nothing special, and it was much more expensive than a typical pub. The second pub was more homely and considerably cheaper. I had arranged to arrive back home for lunch at about 2:15, and at 2:15, I was opening the front door.
We had lunch at 3:00, featuring lamb, potatoes, carrots, Brussels sprouts, parsnips, and lots of gravy. It was delightful and very English. Shortly after, we enjoyed a traditional Christmas pudding with custard, and I found a 25 pence coin in the pudding, which is a tradition of putting money in the Christmas pudding in England.
Later, we had some cake and then some trifle that my mother had made the day before, after which I had to rest, due to eating so much. Later on, I washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. Although it took quite a while, I don’t mind doing it; the truth is, I quite enjoy it.
For me, washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen serve as a form of therapy and discipline simultaneously. It’s even more pleasurable when I do it while listening to music, but if not, that’s no problem. However, when I listen to music and clean, I feel good about looking back afterwards to see that everything is perfectly clean and mostly in the right place. Both the stove and oven are clean and tidy, and the kitchen is presentable.
Well, for me, it is deeply gratifying!!!
In the morning, I had already spoken to Jessica, Yasmin, Nalva, and Cibele, so the day was off to a good start in that respect. Oh, and yes, my brother too, who was at the pub with his son Luke. So, my Christmas Day was simple whilst travelling to England and being with my mother, and I thank the universe for helping it happen. In two more days, I will be in Sheffield with my brother, and this will be interesting.
In the evening, my mother drank half a bottle of Baileys, and I was in bed by midnight.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
