The Day That Death Came To The Xmas Dinner Table

I suppose that I should be grateful that Xmas Day celebrations weren't totally killed off for at least the first part of the morning.

No, that didn't happen until the middle of Xmas Lunch, when death came to the table and everyone suddenly lost their appetite for the duck that I had been so lovingly slaving over, in order to create the perfect Xmas meal.

It was the very first Christmas that I had hosted celebrations at home. It was the first time that virtual Grandpa Bob and I had spent Xmas together, in fact. The grandchildren were then just a far off glimmer in the eyes of virtual Grandpa's boys.

So hear we all were, about to gather in our lovely ancient converted barn, snuggled amongst spectacularly frosty and scenic English countryside.

A huge hunk of our two families were going to be together - meeting for the first time in fact, so I had completely pulled out all the stops.

The giant walk in fireplace had a roaring log fire crackling away. The Xmas tree strained under the weight of twinkling fairy lights, decorations, chocolate Santa's and stacks of prettily wrapped presents piled around it's lower branches. It was going to be an absolutely, perfect Xmas Day!

Or so I thought. Hmmm, how wrong can you be?

The preparations had gone well enough. Our new home had a vast lounge with room for our equally enormous ancient pine table, big enough to seat all of the family together.

I had struggled to find a tablecloth large enough to cover it, until my mother came to the rescue as I was rifling her linen cupboard. The minute I put my hand on the beautiful pristine white, heavy damask cloth, I knew that I had to have it for my Xmas table.

"It's beautiful and just look how big it is!" I grinned triumphantly, as I unravelled the fabric.

"It was your grandmothers…" My mother started.

But I had no time for family reminiscing as I quickly refolded my soon to be Xmas table cloth and headed for the door.

There were more preparations to get on with. A house removal sized truck for starters, needed for the trip to the supermarket to ensure that I had rounded up every ingredient possible for the perfect Christmas day, ladders to be dragged out of the garage in order to hang the Xmas decorations and new plates and cutlery to be purchased to convince the soon to be in-laws that I was going to be the perfect wife for their perfect son…

Indeed, as all of the family finally gathered together, clinking glasses and wishing each other Merry Xmas as they finished their starters, I had to admit that the family tablecloth had done us proud. It was scattered with plates of delicious food and bathed in twinkling candlelight as all of the soon to be in- laws chattered away as though they had known each other for years.

I cleared away the smoked salmon mousses everyone had devoured for the first course and started serving the main course. Everyone tucked in immediately.

"Well done, delicious food!" My soon to-be father-in-law exclaimed. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could finally relax.

"And what a beautiful tablecloth!." My soon to be mother-in-law added, smoothing her hand over the lovely damask fabric.

"It's a family heirloom" I replied. Well, sort of anyway…

"It's not…" My aunty Betty spoke for the first time. The eccentric member of the family (and everyone has one) had been quietly knocking back the Bucks Fizz on the far end of the table.

"It was granny's" I corrected her. "And I got it from mum…"

"It was actually your great granny's" My mum joined in.

"So there we are. It's a family heirloom!" I topped up aunt Betty's glass and hoped that she would shut her gob. Everything had been going so well. I glanced nervously across towards Bob''s parents. They were still smiling as they admired the cloth. Phew!

Aunt Betty knocked back the Bucks Fizz in one.

"It isn't even a tablecloth Miss Smarty Pants" She yanked the bottle from my hand and topped herself up again.

"It's the family laying out cloth. Last one on here was your grandfather. Mouth wide open, dead as a duck! I wondered where this had gotten to. We'll need it for Aunty Florrie any day I expect…"

There was a gasp at the end of the table. The end where Bob's mum was sitting. Then the clank of what sounded like a thousand brightly polished knives and forks hitting the deck as everyone lost their appetites for the carefully prepared duck.

"I was going to tell you." My mother was the only one still tucking in unperturbed.

"But I knew you wouldn't use it if I did."

I don't think I need to elaborate, dear reader, in more excruciating detail? No, I'm sure you get the gist. The perfect meet the in- laws for the first time Xmas Dinner came to a rather abrupt end.

Lessons I learned from the experience are:

1. ALWAYS personally buy your new tablecloth when trying to impress dinner party guests.

2. NEVER trust your mother to tell you everything.

3. NEVER EVER invite your eccentric aunt to dinner the first time you meet your soon to be in-laws.

Especially if you have an unidentified family laying out cloth tucked away somewhere, waiting to ambush the event.

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