‘Twas the night before Christmas…

by Julie Alpine-Crabtree









…and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Except this one.









Who only found my favourite cardigan on the floor and ate his way through it (who has time to pick up their clothes when they have two kids?). Exhibit A:










The mouse is stirring no more. I guess my cardigan didn’t agree with his digestive system. Although, wishing to remain resolutely festive of spirit, I am telling myself that it is better the mouse died of a cashmere overdose than ended up in a cat’s stomach.

Anyway, baby’s asleep, toddler’s asleep, refreshments are awaiting Santa’s arrival, final presents are awaiting wrapping and good smells are emanating from my parents’ kitchen, where my chef is cooking up a storm.

My Christmas Day tip: do Dr Henderson after lunch. No, not one of my father’s fishing friends. A digestif, designed to make one feel more capable of movement and speech after the overindulgence associated with turkey and all the trimmings. Or goose. Or duck. Or all three. And all the trimmings.

It’s one part creme de menthe to two parts Fernet-Branca.

And it’s my Christmas present to you.

Thank you for reading. Wishing you a Christmas that’s deep, crisp and even and a 2012 filled with comfort and joy.