It’s Christmas night and we’ve got the kids off to bed with only a minimal threat to Fifi of taking all her pressies back. Seasonal festive yuletide greetings to you all.
Whilst Christ put the Christ into Christmas (lets not forget him folks, at least tell your kids the nativity story once over the period), we could have done with his catering abilities at the supermarket yesterday. That’s right, the annual bread famine has kicked off. Considering the supermarkets are shut for one whole day (and then only grudgingly), it’s always baffled me that the shelves are stripped of bread by about 4pm on Christmas Eve. I popped in with Fifi at 3.30pm on the day before Christmas and was astonished to see the vultures hovering by the turkeys, waiting for the price reductions, but only moderately surprised to see every trolley with about 7 loaves of bread and 2 packets of rolls in it.
What do people do with all this bread? In my most wild flights of fantasy I imagine everyone in St Albans eating bread pudding after scoffing cheese on toast two or three times a day. The truth is probably more mundane but I’m blowed if I can figure it out.
And on that note, I’ll wish you a merry Christmas.