Christmas morning dawned cold and dark, and as snow was predicted, I could not even go for a walk with Ermioni, so I sat in the kitchen where the Ya-Ya was busy since early morning to prepare our Xmas lunch or dinner. I saw her put one almighty big and fat chicken into a huge pot with a lot of herbs and water, and cooked it for ages. Then the chicken was taken out and the water left in the pot put aside. Then she peeled some potatoes, onions, butternut and brinjal, and left that in a pan of water to boil later. I sat with my drawing book and pencil, wanting to catch the spirit of this old woman on paper. Later the pot with the chicken stock were put back on the stove, a carrot cut in, then a handfull of rice, and when that was soft, a couple of eggs were broken in and stirred with vigour, also salt, pepper and other herbs. The chicken was put in the oven to brown, and the veggies roasted, and voila, our Xmas dinner was ready, complete with lovely salad! The soup could and would not pass further than my mouth, it being I think the vilest food I ever tasted, and I am not full of bulldust!! It was the yellow fat on top that tasted like yellow fat that made my bally tonsils clamp up so that the stuff just could not pass! I really tried, I chewed every rice korreltjie separately, I sucked the carrots to a pulp, but when it came to swallowing, I just could not! And all this time Ya-Ya was watching me with her black beady eyes while she slurped with relish on her soup, and nodding her head now and then, enquired of me: 'Oreia?', and I smiled a bally Judas smile and assured her that it is 'poli-oreia' meaning very nice. I thanked heavens for small mercies when she left to check on the chicken, and my brain almost burned out thinking of where to dump the soup. I thought of the toilet, but that was too far, but then I noticed the potplant! As quick as bally lightning I had deposited the stuff in the pot, and scratched around a bit to bury my crime, and all this time Ermioni, who thought this hilarious, clapped her hands and laughed excitedly. When the Ya-Ya came back, I was sitting very sedately waiting for the next course, but Ermioni kept on pointing her finger at the potplant, and tried to tell her grandma about what was done, but luckily she could not talk properly yet! When the Ya-Ya frowned at Ermioni and then at the potplant, my heart plunged a good way down, but she then left againt to get the chicken. 'Hella, hella', she called for me, and I exhaled loudly and thankfully, and followed on her heels to carry some of the food. The rest of the meal was delicious, and when I opened my present from Ya-Ya, and it was the lovely mohair jersey she had been knitting while on Leonidios, I almost cried, and gave her a big hug. She hugged me back and held me close for a minute or two, and I felt so horrible and mean that it caused me to cry!