Wednesday 16 December 2015

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 9 more days to go

Why was six scared of seven?


As if numbers would scare anyone? But this one is old and tired, like the rant about Christmas. The answer, if you have been wandering around the craters of Mars for the past few years, is - because seven, eight (ate), nine.

And so, the need to drive to the supermarket and order a cooked turkey - not a smoked one, not a frozen one, but a cooked one. Not so much because I am lazy, but because I hate being hot in the kitchen when it is Christmas.

Last year I looked at why on earth we eat turkey at Christmas - although, my father frequently made sure we didn't - a dry, tasteless meat. Not what tradition dictates. If you want to read more, then whizz over to the page from last year: 2 more days to go

Consequently, growing up in my house, no one ever fell asleep after Christmas lunch, as we never got to eat turkey. Actually, that's a lie, after the rushing around cooking, slaving over a hot stove, washing up and then wondering if we'd eaten too much (I always had two helpings of Christmas pudding), my parents fell asleep and I usually sat and read a book.

Ah, hah! The real scientific truth is the fact that eating too much, rather than eating turkey, makes you sleepy. What do you expect if you eat too much, shovel carbohydrates and obviously drink copiously? Enough to send anyone into a soporific stupour. 


Turkey, like chicken, cheese, yoghurt, meat and fish, contains L-Tryptophan. An essential amino acid that the body needs, but cannot produce itself. Tryptophan helps make niacin (vitamin B - great for digestion and skin and nails) and out of that, serotonin (great for making you feel great).



So, give the old bird a break - gobble your turkey (see what I did there?), give your potatoes a roasting, eat your flaming Christmas pudding, and, drink and be merry. Then close your eyes and enjoy a well-earned siesta. 


Bah Humbug, good job Santa hadn't eaten first ...


DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

My brother found a cricket bat,
Mum said, You can’t use that.
Let’s face it Santa’s squeezed in tight,
He’s been there half the night.’



'But I want to open all my toys,'
I said with too much noise,
'There must be something we can do,
To release him from the flue?'

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