I decided a six day break from reality, (including Christmas day) would be sufficient to re-charge batteries, spend time with family and overcome the food and drink excesses - hence no posts. Silly me, this is America.
Here at Christmas
you shop until midnight Christmas Eve; then, when you've unwrapped your
presents in the morning, you re-wrap the gifts you don't want and return same
to stores. You buy loads more stuff as well of course because the sales are on.
If you decide to keep the items rather than return them, you can re-gift them
the following year and here, in America, re-gifting is big business with
television programmes and news clips dedicated to the dark art.
Television is a
nightmare especially at Christmas when there's a glut of good films. While
programme content might not be the issue, the adverts are. Watching a one
and a half hour movie on Boxing Day took three hours. Format is commonly 15
minutes of content then 10 to 15 minutes of ads. There are even ad breaks
during film trailers and/or intros and during credits at the end! No wonder so
many Americans say "for Chrise'sake!" and "Jeeez's!" in
such frustrated tones. I'm picking up the lingo 'already'.
News bulletins
have been dwelling on fiscal cliffs (I swear it's a holiday resort but can't
find it on the map), gun lobbying and associated fall-out, general world
unpleasantness and, of course, the weather.
While we may
consider it a fundamental right of the British people to own all weather and
comments pertaining thereto, Americans have latched on over the years.
Hurricanes across the Pan Handle, (Florida & southern states), tornadoes
through Oklahoma, Texas and the central belt, tropical storms and frightening
lightening pretty much anywhere and snowstorms thousands of miles wide (California
to New England) do give them an excuse I suppose - and that was just this week!
Following the
recent massacre of schoolchildren and teachers at an elementary school in
Newtown, Connecticut, there have been a number of other, serious gun crimes,
across New England. Similar events across the U.S. in recent years have come
back into the public eye and gun lobbyists - pro and anti- are slugging it out
on the public stage. Piers Morgan is anti-gun and having expressed his views
there is a petition running to have him deported. I hope the American dream of
a right to free speech can be upheld because whether you agree with Morgan or
not, his deportation will mean he ends up back in Britain - and we wouldn't
want that now, would we?
Apart from all of
the above distractions from relaxation, what have I done during my
self-imposed, blog black out?
Friday 21st
December – The Boston Ballet
If the world was
going to end it was going to have to wait because we'd agreed it couldn't
happen until after the ballet.
Boston Opera House
is in the middle of this wonderful city on Washington Street, a busy, bustling,
major thoroughfare, nestled between coffee shops, fashion outlets, banks and
university buildings. Surrounding architecture is varied, moderately high rise,
four to 17 storeys, but the opera house itself is a triumph of Victorian
vaudeville theatre, opulent with overkill.
Originally
constructed as a memorial theatre, the building metamorphosed a number of times
until the most recent restoration in 2002; "a rare assembly of
old-world craftsmanship and highly-skilled trades went to work restoring
sculptural plaster, gold leaf finishes, Carrera marble, paintings and
tapestries, grand staircases, chandeliers, walnut and oak panelling. The
restoration included replication of historic carpet, seating and silk wall
panels. When the historic patterns for the silk wall panels proved too
large for modern looms, a loom was custom-built to create the historic
pattern." http://www.bostonoperahouse.com
As for the ballet,
it was The Nutcracker, Tchaikovsky's Christmas masterpiece for children. Alex,
aged ten and Oscar, three, certainly enjoyed the soldiers and rats fighting it
out over the Nutcracker Prince, even if the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy was a
bit off piste! The house was packed to capacity, 2,677, the performance
excellent and the 5 tickets for best seats at $170 apiece worth every cent.
(We) the family even had a 'golden arches' on the way home around 11.30 p.m... (For
those unfamiliar with the term 'golden arches' think of a well-known burger
outlet with outlets all over the world, a bit like a rash).
Saturday 22nd December - The
Christmas Party
The day was spent
baking - lemon drizzle cake, fairy cakes, gingerbread shapes, mince pies and
beyond. Not my department generally as I have savoury inclinations, but anyone
can put a sponge together. Cheese straws, beef and ale pie, steak and kidney
pudding; now that's baking. However, this is America so we must move on.
Determined to be
non-conformist but have stuff to keep in the freezer in case our food was
snubbed, we bunged a load of baking potatoes in the oven, rustled up a pan full
of British bangers, made a substantial chilli con carne and a big pan of
Bolognaise, which was all kept hot in the 'Hostess Trolley' until required. A
sweet chilli, king prawn and smoked salmon salad acted as a starter and we were ready
for an eight o' clock start. No chocolate, no peanut butter, no fries, no
burgers, no corn dogs, no pizza - just NO.
Alcoholic
beverages went over-the-top, magnificently. Vodka, martini, Champagne
(Moet&Chandon @ $99/bott), whisky, Scotch, beers, lager; no vermouth
or sippin' whiskey. Needless to say, the ubiquitous Coca Cola found its way
into the fridge, 'for the kids', along with apple juice, orange and the queen
of soft, fruity drinks, Ribena.
The night was an
absolute hoot to say the least. Pleasingly, the Champagne remained unopened but
the vodka-martini cocktails (used to be called a 'vodkatini' in the 'sixties,
served with a glace cherry and cost six shillings and sixpence in old money),
took their toll on both supplies and consumers alike. Beer disappeared a la
crate and most of the food was missing, presumed eaten.
The night's piece
de resistance however had to be the 'Hostess Trolley'. Cries of, "Oh my
God, what is this?", "Where did you get this"?, "Oh my God
I have to have one of these", and various other exclamations from
desperate American housewives rang through the house, causing squealing children
and sport-talking menfolk alike to investigate the cause of such fervour. This
might be Massachusetts, a wealthy, hi-tec state on the U.S. eastern seaboard,
home of Harvard and MIT, but they haven't seen anything like these cupboards on
wheels that plug into the mains and keep food hot.
We were somewhat
bewildered and hushed as the 'Hostess Trolley' was viewed from every angle,
turned this way and that, inspected from above and below and finally proclaimed
a work of extraordinary brilliance. We blushed a little as we explained, 'we've
had them for years', 'my mum had one in the seventies'. I couldn't help a tiny
sensation of pride and amusement, though disbelief was foremost. I just had to
say, in my best American, mid-west drawl, "Hey y'all. Ya do have
refridgeraders out here, don'tchya?" I still have the bruises!
Sunday 23rd
December - A Day off with Soccer
Breakfast, tidy
house and off to soccer at 11.00 a.m.
Sorry about the
soccer bit, that's what they call proper football over here. Football to
Americans is the silly game with Robocop look-a-likes running into each other
and throwing a rugby-ball-shaped thing before scrimmaging senselessly on the
floor. Hmph.
Back to the
soccer. Alex plays for one of Blackstone Lightning Under 12s teams (even though
he's only ten), and during winter there is an indoor league. Pitches are full
size, artificial turf with full size goals and a couple of rule changes. On
Sunday morning, games are played every hour on the seven pitches from 9.00 a.m.
until 3 p.m. that’s 42 games. That’s just Sunday - there are games all day
Saturday and every afternoon after school there are games, practice or adult
leagues. The place is out of town with plenty of parking, toilets, bar, cafe
and spectator viewing, but it's only 'warehouse' style, nothing fancy - and no
showers! The place is packed with families as children have no other transport
- buses and taxis just aren't available!
In Alex's league,
each half is 25 minutes with a 5 minute break. No time is added on for
stoppages. If the ref does need to, he can stop the clock while a player is
assisted off the field. Each side has six players on the field at any time.
Substitutions can be made at any time. Players can be substituted more than
once. There is no off-side. There are no line judges or officials other than
the referee.
I have never seen
such quality, end to end, fast, skillful football by so many youngsters under
one roof. Alex's team won, 9 - 2.Alex scored 3, set up two, hit the side
netting, hit the post and completely missed a sitter. Yes, I'm biased towards
my family but if they're good, they're good - they're bad often enough!To the
non-football-loving fraternity it may sound as though the opposition were
'rubbish', but they weren't. They played really well but not well enough; last
time the teams met, Blackstone lost 2 - 6. I suspect a number of them were
living out their fathers' fantasies - Maradonna hand of God.
Sadly, though
quick and full of skills, these young lads played 'dirty' - more professional
fouls than certain English league teams, (they know who they are), and every
time Blackstone scored the opposition threw the ball at the Blackstone goal
scorer rather than to the ref at the centre spot. At the end of the game, four
of the team refused to shake hands; sour grapes, bad form.
Great result;
coach happy, Dad happy, Alex happy - peace on Earth for a bit!
Monday 24th
December - The Night before Christmas
Last minute
shopping for milk and a few stocking fillers. Phone calls and Facebook messages
to friends and relatives around the world. Watching television, playing with
the children, last minute ironing, cleaning and secret present wrapping.
Preparation of
turkey; around 6 p. m. this was brought in from garage in its box by the man of
the house and placed next to the sink. Man of the house and boy children then
disappeared to furthest reaches of house as they have a computer game to
play/test/try out. Squeamish cowards, that's all they are, especially the
three-year-old as he's usually the first one to commit mischief with obnoxious
substances, like turkey giblets.
Never having eaten
a fresh American turkey before we weren't sure what exactly to expect in the
box. As it happened, there was just a 24 lb. (11 kilo) bird, complete with
giblets and doings, not in a plastic bag but loose and squidgy. It must be one
of the few things over here not pre-wrapped and ready-to-go!
Within minutes,
the bird was washed, wiped, stuffed with a medley of apple, orange, onion, sage
and lemon zest, ready to be thoroughly buttered under the skin. Here we
encountered a minor problem - hard butter - so there was a short delay after
which we (man) handled the awesome creature into a roasting bag, tied a knot
and put the whole creation into a very large roasting tin.
The turkey is best
cooked on Christmas Eve in order to avoid the potential nightmares involved in
4.00 a.m. alarm call failures, automatic timer hiccoughs, forgetting to take it
out of the freezer and so on. (Note: why hiccups is spelled hiccoughs is one of
life's linguistic mysteries I just can't be arsed to research).
Using pencil and
paper, (me) and a calculator, (Katharine) we calculated the oven temperature and
duration as we believed it should be and came to within a few minutes of each
other. It's a scientific formula that uses a classic 20 minutes per lb. plus
twenty minutes for the bone (assuming a bird at room temperature) at gas mark 6
or electric 400-420 degrees Fahrenheit, with the oven pre-heated and
appropriate adjustments for any other items being cooked simultaneously, such
as stuffings of various volumes and densities; potential voltage drops, power
cuts and sundry incidentals. It's always different for tiny electric ovens,
large ovens, fan-assisted ovens, gas ovens and of course, the wood burning AGA.
Keep you cookery books, keep your thermometers - we do it by science (or
witchcraft if you prefer)!
Once calculated
cooking time is complete, turn off oven and check Christmas stockings are
properly hung, fires are out, Rudolph's oats are ready, Santa's mince pie and
beer are handy, then retire.
Needless to say,
the American turkey was cooked perfectly.
Tuesday,
25th December - CHRISTMAS DAY
IT'S SNOWED
Two inches of
pristine snow fell in Blackstone, Massachusetts on Christmas Eve so Christmas
morning was truly wonderful. (Feet/metres of the stuff fell elsewhere causing
chaos and sympathy is with them, but as with all things weather related, we are
powerless to do anything other than accept what we receive).
We opened our
presents, called family and friends, ate dinner including the fabulous turkey,
played games, didn’t watch television and had a brilliant day.
Having cleared up
the debris, exhausted children were bathed and put to bed, and then we watched
The Bourne Identity, on Netflix, without adverts and had an early
night. Yes, we were all tired after the build-up, the preparations and the
excitement of Christmas, and Boxing Day demanded a very early start.
Alex was playing
in a soccer tournament - first game kicking off at 7.00 a.m. -
"for Chrise'sake!" and "Jeeez's!"!
Wednesday,
26th December - BOXING DAY 2012
Arise 5.45 a.m.
for showers, breakfast, kit check etc. Fortunately, a good night's sleep has at
least given all a fighting chance. 6.30 a.m. off to the tournament. Better
parts of valour determined that maybe, only the men - Alex and Ian - should
attend the event. There was housework, cooking and childcare to consider so
maybe it was a little early to abandon life for 'soccer'.
By 12.30, sadly
without having reached the finals, Won 1 - Lost 1 - Drew 2 - the Blackstone
boys returned without remorse. After lunch, they planned an afternoon of wicked
X-box gaming, until - until it became apparent that the small person, aka
Oscar, also wanted to use the X-box for his new Skylanders Giants game. To
complicate matters just a little more, American and UK games do not cross
platforms - in other words, if you buy a computer game in the U.S. you need to
buy something in the U.S. to play it on. Effectively, in order for all the
family to play games on the X-Box, a U'S. machine would be needed. (Similar
anomalies happen with Kindle for all eBook lovers, so beware if you cross the
pond).
Whether Katharine,
Alex or Ian found the best deal on-line locally first, is open to debate. I was
left at home, willingly, and about an hour later, they returned with the
required piece of kit. two X-Box 360s in one house might be considered
excessive along with PS3, Wii, Kinnect, various DS handhelds, iPads, tablets,
notebooks, iPhones, iPods and laptops - but it's what the family do! Oscar,
(age three) now has his own X-box on which to play Skylanders and other games,
and has been doing so happily.
Me? I just watch
and tell them how to play - it's what I do!
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