pie eyed

"Great mince pies, which recipe did you use?"

Mum's twinkle of eye, "The one from the Carol Concert."

We reached around to pick out the programme from the shelf, where it was filed between 'The Triangle' and an Adobe Photoshop CS4 primer.

Sure enough, last week's Albert Hall concert had included a recipe for mince pies.

"The extra orange and apple is a great tip..."

We all nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, Ian was on his second plateful. The temporary family time was a useful respite from Uni and an excuse to power down and eat something that didn't look like an alien species food experiment. Sandwiched next to Ian was David, lost in his own world of butter thin margins. It was all, he explained, about knowing the best way to open the packet.

We paused at this profound thought.

Then Elizabeth was explaining the shopping phenomenon of Christmas Eve. "Its called Panic Buying," she assured us. "Most of the clothing will be returned to the stores. Men need to remember to 'buy small' rather than large if they are to escape some of the inevitable criticism."

I suggested an emergency purchase desk could be set up in the entrance of certain key stores, with a subset of emergency gifts and some sensible 'panic buying assistants' to help the last minute errant shoppers.

Ron was chattering about the recent trip to Twickenham ostensibly for a rugby match. Attending by public transport had created a unique opportunity for beer consumption which he and a few accomplices had found advantageous for many hours. The encounters with last train commuters sounded suitably improbable. You really did need to be there.

"More mince pies, anyone?"