The Infamous Butcher Christmas meal...

It’s that time of year again, when the fairy lights twinkle on the trees, the aroma of mulled wine fills the air, and family gatherings are all the rage again. It’s CHRISTMAAAAAAAS! The Butcher Christmas family lunch rolls around once a year, as is the nature of an annual holiday. It’s the only time we ever manage to get the whole of my dad’s family together since both his parents passed away, so it’s sort of a big deal. That’s not to say it doesn’t always end up being a disaster without fail. It wouldn’t be Christmas without the Butcher blunder bonanza. So, here goes.

In years gone by the disaster levels have been slowly declining, although the levels of complication have steadily increased, as my uncle Joe has had several different women in attendance (thankfully not at once), but one of them was called Jo - just to add to the slapstick. “Joe, can you pass the stuffing?”…Aside from that confusion, there’s also my cousin - Sam - who has a son and daughter, Landon and Chloe, from different fathers, one of whom she’s in touch with but not with with, the other who she has a restraining order against. You forget which is which at your peril! Her brother, my cousin Adam, has been travelling the world for a couple of years but nearly never made it back home - a bad car crash in Australia that he miraculously walked away from almost got the better of him. Then there’s my other uncle, Martin, and his wife, Kelie. They’re considerably less confusing as couples go, and Kelie is a little slice of Essex, with her blonde hair and fake nails, but always very glamorous. Good sense of humour too. Martin said he’d quit smoking ages ago but still sneaks out for a quick one between starters and mains, and used to be a champion at the yard of ale (if you don’t know what the yard of ale is, have you ever even been to a traditional British pub?!).

So that gives you an insight into the people who usually attend this event - an array of ages, certainly a range of characters, and then another random couple - Mike and Roz. Alice and I can never quite remember how they’re related to us, but they always seem terribly sweet, and 24 years down the line I feel I’ve missed the window of opportunity for clarifying who they really are! Finally there’s my family, with the latest addition of Jamie for whom I felt terribly sorry. I suspect he had no idea what he was letting himself in for, and who knows if he shall brave coming again.

Choosing the location is always the first hurdle, as we’re all spread all over the place a little bit, so being equidistant as well as not completely pants is often one of the criteria for our restaurant of choice. An Italian in Berkhamsted won out last year, and for once in a blue moon the food was edible - in fact tasty! Unfortunately this set our expectations up for a major fall. This year the location choice took us to Aylesbury Vale Parkway, that well known bastion of culinary brilliance! If you’re at all confused I can confirm that yes - it is the railway station I speak of. We weren’t actually eating at the station, but immediately next door at the Miller & Carter Steakhouse. I can feel your pulses racing.

My parents and I all got there nearly an hour early - they took the train (literally the only benefit of this restaurant’s location was that both parties could drink to take the taste and pain away), whereas I was driving from Datchet after a thoroughly lovely weekend of good food and good company. I very much wish I had stayed put. The long wait aside, people began to arrive and we thought at least there would be no major cock-ups this year - we could cope with shoe-leather steak and warm white wine. We’re a tough family. But then it all got too much…

A text was received (you know it gets serious when I put it into the passive!) that informed us Joe and his family (so Sam and the two children) hadn’t even left there home yet. It was 3:30 by this point and our lunch was due to start at 3pm, so needless to say my family and I were ravenous! So, quarter to 4 we decided to start anyhow. The staff were itching to serve us, we were hungry, and we had no more news to go on. That was until we finished our starters. Adam, Joe’s son, walks in. We all cheer, presuming he’s come in tow with the rest of them. Alas not. He came on his motorbike. A phone call is made. Joe is still in Dunstable. Chloe has thrown up, but both children are demanding MacDonald’s. An interesting development.

We plough back into the lukewarm food, fatty meat and greasy sauces (it really was quite the culinary experience) presuming that at 4:30, the likelihood of that half of the family showing up was steadily diminishing. But. To our surprise, as the clock struck 5pm (alright there was no chiming, and even if there had been I strongly suspect the clock would have been very out of time), Joe, Sam, Chloe and Landon walk in. Well, Chloe and Landon sprint in, now high on the e-numbers of their Happy Meal, definitely not considering eating with us (although they did eye up the puds) and utter chaos ensues.

Already we’re well behind schedule, the staff are now entirely disorientated with who’s who (the system of pre-ordering works perfectly well until you reach the snag that, having the same surname means most of our initials vary by a degree of 1 at best. There were more ‘AB’s than they knew what to do with!). So desserts came out but with no sense of order. Pear puddings were mistaken for Christmas ones, custard was cold and lumpy, some people received two desserts, some none, but after some juggling we managed to all eat something sweet. Phew.

Now Joe and his family had been there for all of half an hour, but we were all ready to go! Percy was sat at home twiddling his paws, desperate for a dinner that was already an hour late! I was falling asleep and still had the drive home to think of, and the long narrow table meant I didn’t even get chance to speak to any of them. But, nevertheless, at 6:15 we all took off, presents exchanged, hellos and goodbyes given in the same instant, and not even the shadow of anything we could call a proper catch up.

And so there it is - our annual Butcher family get together did not disappoint, and did in fact end, and begin, in disaster. Can’t wait till next year…