There’s a few little cherry tomatoes ripening on the vine in my vegetable patch. It’s a few days til Christmas and I’m praying the birds, or bugs, or the canine (who’s fairly a fan of cherry tomatoes when he finds his method into the vegetable patch) don’t get to them earlier than Christmas morning. For these little ruby purple nuggets have taken on a particular place in my single life Christmas ritual.
This would be the second Christmas the place I’ve woken up alone. And quite than wallow in self-pity I made a decision, final yr, to seek out my very own traditions, my very own method to rejoice, to fill these empty hours till the children arrive for dinner.
So I obtained up, went for stroll across the neighbourhood, watching the native children journey their new bikes, headed up into the bush and appreciated a phenomenal morning. I got here residence, picked these first tomatoes, sliced myself some ham, toasted a pleasant slice of sourdough, scrambled a few eggs, put the kettle on, performed some carols (thanks Michael Buble for dropping by) and loved an extended, leisurely breakfast studying a ebook I had purchased myself.
The children have been coming over for dinner and I spent the following few hours cooking our little feast for 3. I’m hopeless, I nonetheless do a ham, a roast (it’s a maple infused pork loin this yr and the lads from Lyneham Meat Centre have thrown in additional crackling for me), greens and salad and a pavlova to die for. It was ridiculous. But it surely meant, as soon as that they had left, I didn’t must cook dinner for per week so possibly it was probably the most smart factor I might have finished.