James Proclaims!

There are no chestnuts roasting on an open fire. That seems like a ridiculously unnecessary hazard in a small terraced house in Reading.

There are some parboiled potatoes ready to roast in an electric oven, but at the time of writing, it’s a little too soon to pop them in, although by the time this post goes live, those potatoes will be a recent (and hopefully pleasant) memory.

It is Christmas morn as I write this. My daughters are occupied with some of their many new toys, supervised by Mrs Proclaims and her mother, who is joining us for the big day. We did explain to her what Christmas Day is like with my children, but she still wanted to come.

I have popped away from the merriment, to write this, my annual Christmas message, in a bid to ensure it is ready to hit the blogosphere at 3pm Greenwich Mean Time, so as to coincide with the King’s Speech. It’s a friendly little rivalry that I have with our monarch, as I once did with his mother. Neither the late Queen Elisabeth II or the current King Chales III have ever publicly acknowledged this little Christmas competition but I think their silence speaks volumes.

Once I have completed this missive, I shall return to my little galley kitchen, whence I shall create a feast out of potatoes and vegetables. And a large side of salmon, which is the traditional Christmas bird Chez Proclaims. Salmon is a fish, not a bird, but I’m dealing with pescatarians and so a bird cannot be on the menu. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a Christmas turkey, but in truth, I like salmon too. And most importantly, my two daughters, who agree on very little when it comes to food, both enjoy salmon.

I am contemplating experimenting with some kind of additional herbs and spices to zhuzh the fish up a bit, but I don’t want to run the risk of either child rejecting what is generally considered a healthy source of protein. So I’ll probably keep the salmon simple and zhuzh up the veggies instead. I do enjoy a honey roasted carrot and my children will refuse to eat the carrots whether zhuzhed or not.

Incidentally, until today I had never known how to spell the word zhuzh. I’m not generally a prolific zhuzher. But I feel I may need to incorporate more zhuzhing into my life.

I am, for this time on Christmas Day, uncharacteristically sober. There is a bottle of sparkling wine chilling the fridge which will no doubt remedy that fairly soon.

You might not believe that I am not inebriated were you to see my attire, for I am wearing my traditional Christmas Day Christmas jumper. It comes complete with a hood, on which there are stuffed antlers, allowing me to channel my inner reindeer. I don’t generally identify as a reindeer, but I don’t normally eat carrots. Even honey roasted ones. So perhaps a reindeer is appropriate. Although I’m not sure how Rudolph feels about roasted fish.

I’m not sure whether the reindeer jumper will last another Christmas. I’m beginning to look a lot like Santa (my facial hair is mainly due to lack of shaving, so not a bushy beard as yet, but the grey is starting to appear). The jumper is more snug than it has ever been and frankly when the time comes for New Years resolutions, I either need to commit to losing weight or begin to embrace my metamorphosis into Saint Nick. It is too soon for resolutions but I fear I already know the outcome of that choice.

Perhaps I can pick up a Santa themed jumper in the January sales.

However, now I must return to making merry with my family. And I hope you, dear reader, have (or had) yourself a merry little Christmas too.