Happy Thanks­giv­ing Eve

-- November 24th, 2010 --
pumpkin pie

It’s the calm before the storm.  I’m sit­ting here peace­fully in my study watch­ing my ever-patient hus­band tin­ker with one of the thou­sands of lit­tle fairy lights I bought to dec­o­rate the din­ing room (which is also the kitchen, and the library, of course), send­ing my par­ents flow­ers for tomor­row, mak­ing timeta­bles about when things need to get done tomor­row, when 19 peo­ple will be seated around my table.

Of course, here in Eng­land the vast major­ity of the pop­u­lace are not excited, they’re at school and work, plan­ning noth­ing more sus­tain­ing to eat than a nice packet of fish and chips or a plate of shepherd’s pie, so it’s not the all-hands-on-deck Cookathon that it is in Amer­ica.  I really do miss that Thanks­giv­ing feel­ing: of a gray day (always, it seemed!), the last leaves waft­ing down, every­one home and under­foot, an old movie or foot­ball game on in the back­ground, and all sorts of unac­cus­tomed peo­ple in the kitchen.  In my child­hood, this unlikely cast of char­ac­ters included my poor mother, who was never happy in the kitchen, and my father, who appeared on spe­cial occa­sions like Christ­mas morn­ing to make the pan­cakes and…