THE FAMILY, THE CARVERY, AND THE OLD MISER

Family party time. This year, for a change, we all went out for dinner. Twenty one of us packed out the Toby Carvery in Newbury (roughly equidistant for everyone, we assumed). I know, classy, right.

I'm not knocking a roast dinner. And actually it was alright. It's an interesting system though: there is a menu, and the menu is festooned with options, but you don't seem to be required to order from it. At all. Instead, you queue up at an illuminated hatch and you pick it all yourself. Today's options were: turkey (naturally), roast pork, gammon and beef.

I heard myself say: "Pork and gammon please," to the hatted chef with the sharp knife. While he shaved the meat into slices for me, it suddenly occurred to me that pork and gammon, was a weird choice. Oh well. Too late at that point. And anyway, this year, I've accidentally found out something about turkey-farming that turned my stomach. And the beef looked a bit gristly.

The family was in good form though. Uncle Arthur brought his terrible jokes, Uncle Reg brought tales of the barbershop group he's in, and Walty brought truckloads of activities for the children. Once again, I was the only person who came alone - not that there really is an alone in family, but it still struck me.

"Well, looks like we've got the saying-goodbye bit down to less than an hour," said Aunty Mary, at the end in the car park. I closed my eyes and stood stock-still, my hood protecting me from the rain. I must have looked a bit like I had been cryogenically frozen for posterity.

"Grandma would have loved that," said Walty, referring to the drawn-out goodbye, not me pretending to be an icicle. Of course, this whole family event was her idea way back in the day. The enormous buffet, the zany games, the carols around the piano, the hilarity and the elaborately drawn out goodbyes, and everything else we loved as kids, were all her thing. I have no doubt that she'd be pleased we still do something, but of course, all that party stuff has had to be different. It like us, has grown up and changed.

I got home and plugged in the radiators. I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge, eking out a miserly supper by the fire. Though of course, I was too full for a crumb of cheese or a drop of soup.

I went to bed and stared at the ceiling.