Allens round for New Year's Eve 2012

But not the evening bit

A Christmas spent north of the border and a festive wedding or two meant that the Allens' diaries were only aligned for New Year's Eve, for which day it was a reserved a second (major) present opening session.  I offered brunch (although really it was just common breakfast items served at lunchtime in the end) and Matt brought his camera (and egg poaching skills).  Lynne clearly decided that this is Daisy's present opening dress and her hair being long enough to put in bunches needed little invitation.

As I sizzled and simmered in the kitchen, Daisy attacked her plethora of gifts with gusto, with Katie sharing in the joyous surprise.

This particular item was suitably captivating.

A Hello Kitty colouring pad received some interest, but not from Jordan who saw the opportunity for some shut-eye.

Nana Sue provides instruction as to how to feed milk to Daisy's new baby as a dog, a slightly freaky somersaulting dog bought by Katie, looks on.

I think I've got it now, Nana.

Meanwhile, in another room, I prepared the orders (in typical organised fashion I had a spreadsheet grid as the menu so that I knew how many of each item to cook).  Here, I was probably sifting through what was a ridiculous amount of bread that I purchased (so much so that Matt left with a bread bag later on).

My trade secret is blown: tinned plum tomatoes.  Actually, on a more serious note, such tomatoes are often sadly lacking from a traditional English breakfast, with the sole reliance for moisture in such a meal resting wearingly in the hands of the baked beans, often with a half-grilled tomato looking on, somewhat sadly.  I almost always find this disappointing.

Another key part of the baby rearing kit: the miniature beaker.

Things started to come to a head now, as I juggled pots and pans with almost reckless abandon.  (This is by no means literal.)  My main two issues were: poaching three eggs at a time (Matt helped out with this) and toasting a dozen slices of bread at the same time (or, at least, keeping them warm once done), for which I turned to the grill for assistance.

Eventually, though, things (if not all the people at this point) came together.

Daisy shows off her dress.

Barely any point adding words here: she's a pretty 'un.

Back to smile school for the two of you.

The exhausting events of the moment inevitably take their toll after time, and Daisy sought solace with her thumb and the TV.

I feel certain that Matt put Katie up to this, which looks faintly sinister but it is actually a plastic onion that Katie is pretending to lick.

Slightly weirdly, Kate managed to find me a card game which was named after me.  (It actually got played later that evening.)

Hi, Uncle Matt!

Daisy does love having books read to her, but the TV is often a distraction.  Ah, the third parent.  (The TV, not Nana Sue.)

Daisy presumably thought that she had gotten away with this, a surreptitious move to the nostril with her right finger, snaking in between her thumb sucking hand and her Kitty toy (who looks the other way, or turns the other cheek, or something).

Also present on this day: Matt's girlfriend Nic.  She requested a poached egg.

And Jonathan.  He liked the home-made hash browns.  (He had two!)

And finally Nana Sue.  She was impressed by the effort that had gone in, but ultimately she just wanted Matt to do his caricature impressions and me to put the Rainbow theme tune on my laptop.

We can't finish on that, though.  Instead we'll finish on the mesmerised, and to some extent mesmerising, Daisy Suzanne Allen.  I forecast next year's Christmas attaining a slightly higher level of carnage - she was disappointingly well-behaved this year.  (I joke, of course.)

And that, as they say, is that.  For another year anyway.

Back to the Secret Portal.