The goose had been in the oven for hours, but it didn’t seem to be browning. In fact, it was barely cooking. It was Christmas 2017. Just as the predicted snow hadn’t arrived, neither had the characteristic aromas in the kitchen. On the one day of the year it was fully booked, the oven had quietly packed up.
My mum and I looked around at the trays of potatoes, pigs in blankets, honeyed parsnips, carrots and brussels sprouts lined up for their turn in the now defunct oven. Thankfully, only the two of us were waiting for the oven’s offerings.
