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Monday, December 25, 2017

Each Christmas has its own edge!



    Well, the traffic was much lighter than I expected and we had a pleasingly uneventful journey to Terrassa.  And we, eventually, remembered the One Thing that, traditionally, we forget to bring.
We had remembered and wrapped all the presents.  We had the cards that we needed.  We had the leads and the electronic bits and pieces that modern life now demands.  We had packed the clothes that we needed for the three days, and enough Cava to see us through.  We thought, ah vain human vaunting, that we had remembered it all.

What we had forgotten was an element in the ‘something different this Christmas Eve’ sort of thing.  The ‘something different’ is a competition.  Three people, including my partner, are going to cook and I am going to judge the final offerings – thereby creating two enemies for life.
 



One of the few Classical myths and stories that does find purchase in modern life is the story of the Fall of Troy.  And while the concept of the Trojan Horse has become something which can be used without showing off, the Judgement of Paris is slightly less well known – but the Trojan Horse stratagem was necessary because of the judgement of that random Greek.

Paris was chosen to make an invidious choice: he had to give a golden apple to one of three goddesses who paraded in front of him.  He chose the goddess of love and was duly rewarded by her life long amity and the tangible benefit of getting Helen of Troy as his sexual partner.  Paris was not of Troy and Helen was already taken, but it is amazing what a goddess can accomplish when she has just humiliated two of her fellow deities.  Paris, of course, was instantly hated by the other two to whom he had not given the apple and I only hope that he was satisfied with his fleshly bargain.

In my Judgement of Stephen I do not stand to gain anything and stand to be reviled fluently in a language I imperfectly understand and to be reminded of my crime to the end of my days.

As my partner is also entering this competition there is an added complication.  His attempt to win has been adversely affected by the fact that the one thing that we forget was an essential ingredient in his dish.  It is sitting in the fridge at home in its expensive tin.  And is not here.  At all.

My partner’s mother seems to have taken the opportunity of the competition to cook for the 5,000 producing not merely a sample dish, but rather a whole menu of variations for general consumption!

This competition is to be just one part of the evening’s festivities.  It is traditional to get your presents at Christmas Eve by hitting the log (see previous Christmas blog entries for explanation) and taking your goodies as the log shits them (really, you should look at previous Christmas entries, it will all make sense then).

This year I am guaranteed delight because I know what at least two of my presents are!  One of them is a pair of books that I ordered from Amazon (one of the penalties of having Amazon Prime is that you are the go-to guy for deliveries for everyone you know) and, with an effort of will that is entirely foreign to me, I kept myself from looking at them so they can be fully enjoyed when I get them from the log.

Now off to Toni’s sister’s house for the meal and the goodies!


CHRISTMAS DAY, 2017.


The Spotlight of Condemnation in the judging of the meats was diffused a little because instead of being the sole adjudicator I was joined by the two kids for the final deliberation and decision.  The guilt, as it were, was shared!

We ate our way through five different preparations of pork ranging from the pure meat in a pate sauce to an elaborate construction with goat’s cheese.  The simplest form won, it being decided that the melt in the mouth quality of the meat with just the right coating of other flavours made it a worthy champion.  I will not say who made the final dish, but I think that my personal domestic situation will not be made more tense by the award!

It is now 11 0’clock and I am the only one up and doing.  Carmen has prepared well this year and I have a choice of two teas to choose for my morning (just) drink.  One is a Moroccan infusion with mint, while the other is a variety of Earl Grey that I am presently drinking.  I was also gifted a little ‘present from London’ box of ten authentic Earl Grey tea bags in it.  The pictorial design includes a black cab and The Big Ben (as Catalans stubbornly refer to the tower) and, as they are vacuum-sealed, they can safely be left to lubricate my next visit.

The books that were a present from Toni are from a Thames & Hudson series that give short illustrated lives of significant characters from the Renaissance and The Middle Ages. 


The format of the books appeals to my informed dilettante approach to knowledge.  Each entry is no more than a few pages long and each has extensive illustration.  They are informative and accessible without being condescending and they have references, acknowledgements and an index.  They are both hardbound and feel substantial.

Medieval people 2014 Michael Prestwich cover
The characters chosen vary from the world famous to the delightfully obscure – or it could be that the ‘obscure’ ones merely point to gaps in my knowledge, after all they have been deemed significant to make the cut as individuals out of the millions who were alive in the chunks of time covered.  I will do a little test and look at the lists of names and see how far through them I can get before I have notched up 10 people of whom I have not heard.  I will post the results (as long as they are not too humiliating) in a future blog!

[I've actually done this now, and I got to personality 37 in both volumes, before my 10 unknowns had been used up.  I'm not sure how my IQ (Ignorance Quotient) rates based on these figures!]

My perfume stocks have been augmented by bottles of Kouros and 1881 – both favourites of mine.

Over the last decade of so I have altered my approach to New Things.  I am still as acquisitive as ever, but I have altered my way of acceptance.  When I was given something in the past, I used to keep it in its packaging for as long as possible – who does not respond to the concept of pristine?  But it also meant that things were not used. 

There is always the nagging approach to ‘make things last’ and therefore only use them on significant occasions.  Sometimes the ‘significant occasions’ were so infrequent that things became out of date or simply forgotten before they were used up.  So now whenever I get something I open it up and try it at once.  I suppose it is a variation on the ‘live and make merry, for tomorrow you die!’ approach to life.


So what this means in effect is that with perfume, for example, I open it at once and use it, throwing away the sometimes elaborate and expensive packaging that it came with.  This is especially true with packaging that has fitted spaces for the elements in the gift, for example with the Kouros 
Resultado de imagen de kouros perfume
where the classically elegant box had a space for the white marble-look bottle and a tube of shower gel.  I was, however determined to cast the packaging into the vast and growing sack of rubbish from the presents as soon as possible.  In this case the perfume and gel were stubbornly set in their respective niches and were disinclined to budge.  So I resorted to destructive force and that is the reason that I am now the walking wounded!

Paper cuts are bad, but cardboard cuts are worse.  I managed to slice my little finger just on the crease of the first joint, where the constant flexing of the affected line of pain will ensure its longevity!  But a small price to pay for a fragrance that, like Proust’s madeleine takes me back in a single whiff to another time in my life!  However long you go on using a particular perfume, its emotional appeal is rooted in the time when you first used it!

Still no movement from the other bedrooms, and it may well be time for me to have another cup of tea!

CHRISTMAS DAY, EVENING, 2017.

An excellent meal in a restaurant in Terrassa.  I had homemade canellones, followed by a fish and sea food platter and finished off with pineapple with crema catalana garnish.  With red wine, gaseosa and a decent cup of tea, oh yes, and with catalan bread.  And water.  And all for 30 euros per person.  On Christmas Day!  We gave the chef a round of applause when she came out to see us after the meal - and she well deserved it.

Then came the pongos.

Now the point of these 'presents' is to provoke appalled amazement in the faces of the recipients when they are finally unwrapped.  This year the wrapped presents were distributed by the kids and then two minutes were allowed for the mystery gifts to be exchanged.  There was also the option of forcing a change by throwing a couple of dice and then exchanging the gift you had with the person how ever many places away from you the total number showed.

Then the reveal of what you had got.  The three worst pongos were, in reverse order:

3rd - A metal tea light holder with garishly coloured jewels held at artful angles by a fretwork of irregular length wires to catch the flickering light.  Grotesque.

2nd - A plaster construction of a semi circular arc on which three owls perched.  The owls were depicted in an humorous manner which merely added to the general sense of horror that the 'object' produced.

1st - A vase.  Its colours were late seventies or early eighties browns and its construction was like a three dimensional projection of a talentless imagining of what an abstract painting might be if it offended nobody.  A vile piece of pottery!

My own pongo turned out to be a be-jewelled and silvered tortoise.  Which, I have to say I rather like and immediately thought would do very well in the garden as an unexpected piece of sculpture!

Tomorrow, my Name Day!

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