Nearly there

The Christmas shopping is done, the cards are mailed, the cake is in the oven (can you smell it?), the pudding should be steaming along nicely this afternoon, the fruit mince is drinking up the brandy, and there are still four days to Christmas.  This has to be a record in the Fudge household.

Yes, of course, there are still things to do.

• make the glacé fruit cakes
• make the pastry for the fruit mince pies
• make the shortbread
• wrap the presents

But there are still four days to go.  What can possibly go wrong?

Summer arrived in time for some pre-Christmas lunches with family and friends.  It's seafood weather and a couple of weeks ago we traveled to the Central Coast town of Woy Woy, famous for  one thing only - Spike Milligan, whose parents had retired there in the 1960s.  As a result he spent many years visiting the place, loving and hating it.  He named it "the largest above ground cemetery in the world".  Ah, the perfect place to meet up with old class mates and our menfolk for a Christmas get-together.  

Last Sunday we had lunch with the family at Cockle Bay Wharf - seafood of course.  Our son-in-law's parents were in town from Melbourne and we had the most happy day.  The children were preening themselves with pleasure at having both sets of grandparents together.  Our son-in-law's family name is the same as a particularly nice eating fish and it never ceases to amuse me to watch the waiter's face when the entire family orders the same fish dish.  No, not salmon, and certainly not barramundi.  Guess again.

This photo of Watson's Bay is courtesy of TripAdvisor

During the week we met up with my brother for yet another seafood lunch, this time at Watsons Bay.  There's nothing more pleasurable than queuing up for take-away fish and chips at Doyles on the Wharf.  We sat on the beach wall, soaking up the sun and slowly eating our fish and chips.  Bliss.  It became a little hazardous when I took pity on a seagull and threw a chip his way.  Within 5 seconds the beach was transformed to a scene from The Birds.  Time to beat a hasty retreat.

And now I shall take a leisurely look at the cake, put the pudding on to steam and cut up the glacé fruit so that I can soak it in rum overnight.

What can possibly go wrong?  If I do not return until some time after Christmas, you will know that all did not go well.  Best not to ask.