Well, it is that time of year again – when we get out the old plastic tree, dodgy string of lights, tinsel wreath, and all the unwanted gifts that have lain in storage since last year. A quick re-wrap and some new address cards and they are going to be ready to be launched again.
The shortbread may be a little doubtful by now – the use-by date starts with 19…- but the mechanic’s knitted sparkplug cosies should be no problems. And the soaps never go out of date – you just splash them with California Poppy to freshen up the aroma and no-one knows the difference.
It’s also time to get out the Christmas centrepiece – something to go around that tree or to sit on the table during The Big Lunch. Trains are traditional around a tree, gingerbread houses for the table. But this year I am going to introduce a new tradition – the Christmas missile silo. A gaily decorated hatch in the centre of the dining table that fires a fully cooked turkey when you press the launch button.
Can you imagine the look of wonder and anticipation on the faces of the kiddies as the warning Klaxons ( 190dB ) go off and the red lights flash. The armoured doors slam shut and the steel bolts shoot home. The liquid oxygen fumes rise up from the table and the hatch swings open… The countdown 10..9..8..etc. and at ” Zero! Launch The Bird! Ignition! ” the 15 kilo butterball rises on a column of flame and gravy until it hits the ceiling.
With a deafening roar it strikes the overhead light fitting and explodes ( careful segmenting of the bird as it is roasting plus thin strings around it to take the initial launching forces ), raining drumsticks and dark meat down over the screaming diners. As they dodge potatoes and stuffing a cloud of green peas drifts toward the lounge room and drops onto the latecomers. Never mind a tablecloth – they never had a tablecloth at Bikini Atoll.
You’re always looking for a way to make Christmas more memorable for your children? They’ll never forget this one. And the good news is that they will always have a reminder – the half-life of fruitcake is longer than most people care to admit.