Why didn’t anyone tell me that you had to light the brandy in the spoon before pouring it over the Christmas pudding to make it do that flaming thing that you always saw in the movies?

Dousing the pud with the brandy didn’t work and trying to light it with a match didn’t work and I was in tears trying to get the bloody thing lit. This was my first Christmas with Lucy and the friends she had invited and I was making a right mess of everything.

I had managed to cook the turkey properly, with a bit of friendly coaching, but I was hopeless at carving, not surprising I guess, since I had never had to do one before. I managed to get all the vegetables right. I knew how to roast spuds and boil peas, carrots, brussels sprouts, etcetera, and the cranberry sauce came out of a bottle from Marks and Spencers, so I couldn’t bugger that up. I still managed to make a mess of serving the sage and onion stuffing but my giblet gravy was tolerable.

I was rescued with the brandy by one of our guests, Bill, who was a butcher and knew what to do. I was just such a klutz at serving like any real waitress would have done. It was pretty obvious that I was out of my depth. When he finally showed me how to do it there was so much spirit on the pudding that a blue flame shot nearly to the ceiling. Of course everybody laughed, which just made me feel worse.

Looking back, I suppose it wasn’t surprising. I was over-ambitious and should never have volunteered to do everything myself. But Lucy didn’t want to discourage me and it was the first time that I had attempted to do it all in my French Maid’s persona and costume.

Not that that was a costume other than it was a variation of the feminine attire that I had become accustomed to wearing over the last year. Luckily our guests were very supportive. They knew about me, of course, and made allowances for my ineptitude.

Everybody helped with the washing up and putting the uneaten remains of the meal into the fridge. Afterwards I managed to serve drinks and savouries without any further disasters.

I actually received more than a few compliments about my appearance and my femininity, if not for my culinary capabilities. I have to admit that I loved being a French Maid for the occasion. It had always been one of my fantasies, now a reality that I had never thought would come to pass. I did feel very pretty.

However, when all our guests had gone I broke down sobbing in Lucy’s arms. Catastrophes happen to teenagers, even though I wouldn’t be one for much longer. Naturally she soothed me and cuddled me, but so much for a Merry Christmas!

My New Year’s Resolution was to do better next Christmas!