A Pudding Plot and a Whiskey Shortage.

 Saturday 20th September 2025.

“Perhaps next time Dad takes a sip, he’ll wonder if it tastes of raisins.”

I was up early enough this morning to sneak into Mum’s bed for a while. I must confess, it was for my own ends more than for Mum’s pleasure this time. I wanted to see if I could wriggle out of going to the stables.

So, after a suitable amount of time lying there quietly, when I thought the moment was right, I asked, “Mum, would you mind if I gave the stables a miss this week?”

“Yes of course you can. I’m surprised you’ve been going anyway since you’ve been doing work for your dad,” she replied.

I thought to myself, Well, thanks for telling me, Mum! There’s me, dragging myself off each week thinking I was still obliged to go. Of course, I kept that part to myself and instead said how it would be nice to spend the day together. She gave me a hug and a kiss.

While I was getting breakfast ready, Mum asked how I fancied making a start on the Christmas puddings. I liked the sound of that very much. I know Christmas is still a long way off, but apparently they’ll keep for several years once made. This is the first time I’ve lived somewhere that bothers with making their own puddings.

So, after breakfast was done and dusted, Mum and I set off to the supermarket to gather everything we needed. It made me feel quite optimistic about the months ahead. Even at the best of times, I don’t remember my parents ever doing much for Christmas, apart from buying in a few extra drinks or the odd different food. But Mum here is something else. Back at Easter I’d already been told how she goes above and beyond with decorating the house, so now I can’t wait to see what she does for Christmas.

We got all the mixture made, and now it’s sitting in a big bowl on the pantry shelf, soaking up nearly all of Dad’s whiskey. We took pity on him and saved just enough for him to have a little sip in the evenings this weekend. I’m not sure what he’ll do after that, unless Mum plans on another shopping trip. He might just have to settle for licking the pudding bowl instead. Mind you, considering how much whiskey we tipped in, he’ll still get a decent taste of it that way!