Artist, Storyteller, Whatever...
As the rest of this deliciously looking joint was promised as a festive treat for the servants of 13 Piccadilly Terrace, for not only had they worked really hard throughout the year, they would now be savouring the thought of their Christmas Day lunch with eager anticipation; I knew that I needed to send the feline on his way before he demolished the lot and quickly!
However, after spotting the suspicious looking wisps of white on his whiskers, I noticed the tell-tale floury paw prints all over my clean floor…
And believing that I was the only creature stirring, I quickly became alarmed when I caught a glimpse of the tablecloth fluttering and thinking that it was probably the resident mouse making his presence felt; I decided to take a peek...
"I Have Made a sumptuous Meal of Your Minced Pies... I Congratulate You on Your Cook."
It would appear that while enjoying a potter about the kitchen and he must have decided to have a little fun with the flour I had been using to make another batch of mince pies.
...only to discover that this was no pesky rodent but that Murphy had somehow found his way into the kitchen!
Besides warming himself by the fire, it would appear that he was now intent on tucking into the remains of Lord B's Christmas Eve supper with a large chunk or three of Roast Beef!
Now, although I have nothing against messiness as I have been known to make rather a lot of it during my own frequent creative endeavours; I do believe in the value of personal responsibility which includes cleaning up after oneself!
It was after I had shared these thoughts with the feline, that he quickly disappeared in search of the household besom so that he could do a spot of sweeping up.
And as I returned to the 'roleing' of the 'Puff Past' with my copy of Margaretta Acworth's 'book of receipts' to hand, I said a quick prayer that 'Peace and Good Will' would prevail this Christmas and that Murphy's quest would not be thwarted by a chance encounter with another creature namely Lord B's favourite Newfoundland dog Boatswain who was also known to be stirring on this night!
Not that I mind doing the occasional bit of sweeping up!
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds...
Clement Clarke Moore
Although the children may have been ‘nestled all snug in their beds’ waiting for the visit from St Nicholas on Christmas Eve there was plenty 'a stirring’ within the basement kitchen of Lord Byron's abode at 13 Piccadilly Terrace in the year 1815!
For having prepared a variety of dishes in which to tempt the palette of the house guests on Christmas Day morning including Plover's Eggs nestled on freshly gathered moss from my garden, a silver tray of delicious home-made bread rolls, a large bowl of red currant jelly and a display of the traditional mince pie...
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