On Christmas day, my father will light a fire for the braaivleis (BBQ), next to the pool at about eleven in the morning, and not long after that, the aroma of smoke and of meat, being cooked will fill the air...
I will be in the kitchen, cooking the pap, using the coarser grain of maize because my mother loves it so much, and next to it on the stove, will be a pot with tomato and onion sauce simmering away...
The salads would have been already been prepared, with the potato salad already being eyed by all...
And when everyone is complaining that not another morsel of food can be consumed, my mother will appear with the trifle, and eager hands will be holding out their pudding bowls...with sudden space found in declared full tummies...
So, who in their right mind would go on a diet eleven days before Christmas? Or even worse, had a total moment of insanity when agreeing to do the diet in accordance with a "you fail, you are going to be spanked" programme?
If you are looking for me on Christmas day, I will be the one sitting quietly in the corner, looking very forlorn whilst nibbling on my celery stick...for I rather want to be saying “Ho, Ho, Ho” than “Ouch, Ouch, Ouch”....
