I rather feel that now I have an inkling as to what the Christmas turkey must feel like as it is put into the oven on Christmas morning.
Friend W and I decided that today we would try out what is possibly our best restaurant in the town - certainly in the top few. So we had Sunday lunch at Tennant's. (The farmer was out walking with his friend C). We did not stint ourselves. We had roast Irish beef and could choose whether we wanted it rare, medium rare or well-done. It was served with duck-fat-roasted potatoes, yorkshire pudding, (note no capital y in deference to our blogging friend Yorkshire Pudding!), purple cauliflower, chantenay carrots and beautiful gravy. Then we had a parfait with honey and figs, and finally coffee and petit fours.
We staggered out and home and now I intend to sit in front of the television and watch the news, followed by Country File, followed by the results of the first Strictly Come Dancing 'throw off' (Ed Balls??) - I don't think I shall need (or feel like) anything else to eat before at least this time tomorrow - if then. But it was jolly good.