I woke up this morning feeling miserable. I felt progressively worse as I had my shower and ate a solitary slice of toast for breakfast. I crawled back into bed at 10.15 with a hot water bottle and wet hair (too ill to dry with hair dryer, yes, I know what you’re thinking) only briefly rising again to stand over the toilet feeling like I was going to be sick. I was convinced that I had flu. I’ve had it once before and I was very afraid.
I woke up again at 2.30 feeling largely fine. A bit of a headache and haven’t had anything to eat yet but I am dressed and walking around and my legs no longer feel wobbly. A mystery. My hair leaves a bit to be desired though.
Anyhow, as well as being the last Sunday of the liturgical year it is also what our Church of Ireland friends call Stir Up Sunday, (who knew that this was going to be an ecumenical post?). Showing positively Protestant levels of organisation, I had left lots of fruit soaking last night in stout and brandy. I went and bought new pudding bowls yesterday as, by some bizarre process they always disappear from one year to the next (or, at the very least, the lids do). I was therefore, this afternoon able to tip in the remaining ingredients all of which I had acquired earlier (chopped hazelnuts – yes, ground almonds – yes, chopped walnuts – yes etc). I was totally on a roll and filled with smugness until I got to juice and rind of an orange. I mean, really, we always have oranges, there was no need to get them in. But, oh no, not today. The Princess and I went out to the corner shop and as far as she is concerned, it was a total win as she got chocolate to melt for her chocolate moustache mould (every house should have one).
So my plum puddings are made and now all that remains to do is steam them for a fortnight. This is hard won experience over my five year plum pudding making period; there was a time when I thought two and a half hours would do it. Hah. I am genuinely expecting to be steaming these puddings all evening for at least a week.
