The second New Year’s began with a series of minor domestic disasters.
The moment N started carving the turkey, the plate cracked and the stuffing (that’s quite mushy because it consists of alcohol-drenched currants) started spilling all over the table.
At that very moment, the chimney started – for no reason whatsoever – to send clouds of smoke into the house. Fire alarms on all 3 floors started blaring.
N rushed to save the turkey. I rushed to open the door to let the smoke out.
And, of course, at that moment I slipped and fell flat on my back.
And, of course, N freaked out, dropped the turkey and rushed to pick me up.
Ultimately, I’m fine, the chimney came to its senses, the turkey was salvaged (and turned out to taste sensationally good) but it took us about an hour to straighten everything out and get on with the dinner.
As a result, there are no pictures. Maybe we’ll have to do a third New Year’s that will be a little less eventful.
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