This will be brief. Although I am going to bed shortly I will be up again in a few hours time waking up the rest of the family so we can drive to John Lennon Airport to catch an early morning plane.

For the first time for a long time we have a week away over Christmas. And not only will we be spending Christmas Day with the immediate Bullivant family (17 in all) but the whole week is going to spent in close proximity.

As families go we are lucky and will look to try and find ways around the raising of voice and the looking for a row. But over a whole seven days? We shall see.

We are spending the week in a large vila in Southern Spain which should work as compensation. Apparently there is Wi-fi. If there is then more bulletins may follow although they may be written through a fog of sherry, Rioja and Patxaran.

If the Wi-fi does not work – have a good Christmas!

Well that just shows you that a bit of time, care and attention makes all the difference.

Having finished the roast chicken I picked the meat off the carcass and put it to one side in the fridge with whatever juices and bits of gravy were left in the pan.

The carcass then went into a pan with a chopped onion and giblets and the water left over from draining the potatoes and was left on a low heat for a couple of hours. That was then drained off and the stock put in the fridge next to the chicken.

Two of us ate it this evening.

Oil was heated in a wok and once it started to smoke I added the chicken and started to cook it through on a high heat.

I then added chopped spring onions, garlic, ginger and red chilli and some shredded green beans.

That was cooked through for a few minutes. As it cooked I stirred in a couple of tablespoons of oyster sauce.

I then added the stock which in the meantime had been heated through in another pan. It had been thick and jelly like coming out of the fridge.

I then added two packs of noodles and cooked them through and the whole lot was poured into two bowls.

It was thick and unctuous and possibly the best chicken noodles I have made.

In the meantime Galen’s art teacher has told him that there is something of the Francis Bacon in the way the he paints. So he has taken that on board and spent the evening painting a picture of an Ox’s heart that I picked up from The Farmer’s Market last year.

.

Last week on Sunday The Observer Food Magazine had in it an article on Elizabeth David and a selection of favourite recipes chosen by famous chefs. My eye was caught by a recipe for Pot Roasted Chicken stuffed with olives from French Provincial Cooking. The Farmer’s Market was on the following weekend so I would be able to pick up a good bird.

Back at home I pulled from the shelf in the kitchen my rather battered copy of French Provincial Cooking and looked up the recipe. It was there but on the following page there was a recipe for chicken with tarragon and butter. There is a bunch of tired tarragon in the fridge and it would be shame not to use it up so we will have that instead with roast potatoes and cumin and honey flavoured carrots.

At The Farmer’s Market I was tempted by some great looking ribs of beef. They may be a bit extravagant when there will be only two people eating it but we will eat the leftovers as well. I will leave them until next month. Something to look forward to in the dog days of early January. In the meantime I made do with some Buffalo Rump Steak for Saturday’s lunch. Fried briefly in a smear of olive oil and and then stuffed into a crunchy baguette with a couple of slices of tomato. I bought some Tasty Lancashire cheese for my sandwiches during the week. People have been nibbling at it already and it will be lucky to last until Monday

I have also been attending to some of the preparation for Christmas. This included buying a tree. Not as big as last year but big enough and now up and decorated. I even hung a couple of baubles before being told by the youngest I was doing it wrong.

And then there was christmas shopping on Sunday. As we are going to be away for Christmas week there would appear to be less pressure to stock the house up on gifts. Walking round Liverpool there was time to admire some graffiti and wonder at why it was necessary to have the life size nativity scene in the middle of Church Street hemmed in by a fence. That probably tells us all that we need to know about Christmas.

Having completed my shopping I was able to sneak 20 minutes in Lunya for a pint of Estralla and a plate of Trevelez Serrano Ham in anticipation of the week that we will be spending in Spain over Christmas. And very good it was too.

‘Who was that man then?’

‘You know him alright. That was Two Pints.’

‘How does a man get a name like that?’

‘Feck. There’s nothing hard about that. He’ll just drink two pints for the night and leave it at that. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just the two pints. And he’ll tell you, make it as clear as he can, that there is no more needed. There is no better feeling a man can have than being halfway through that second pint.’

‘The first pint will loosen the back of the mind, shake out the cobwebs and clear up the air. You’ll be bound to finish it too quickly and the glass will be back down on the bar the dregs streaming in. There’ll be a wait then as that second pint is poured into its glass and as you’re doing that your tongue will rattle a bit in the mouth.’

‘There’s no patience to be had as you wait for that pint. But when it is there, in front of you, pause for a while and make that wait last. He’ll not have another pint after that one and you can see in the way he holds the glass that he’d like to have more.’

‘Drink deep there and let the world settle down around you. Two Pints will tell you there’s all sorts of temptation in the world and powders to make you feel good. But that second pint will knock them all down.’