As well as the ubiquitous pantomime, over-eating seems to be another Christmas tradition. It almost feels like an obligation to guzzle great quantities of extra food at this time of year. You’ve probably just tucked into a mince pie yourself.
If you have, it might not be the best time to start talking about puff pastry. And that would be fine by me because it’s not something I feel compelled to do …most of the time. But it isn’t always that simple.
I’ve explained before that I nearly always lose the ability to speak when I’m having a ‘ticcing fit’. For over a year, several times a day, every day, these fits have been part of my life, so I’ve resigned myself to being suddenly lost for words.
If I try and speak when this happens, all that comes out is a strange and incomprehensible jumble of sounds that no one other than King Russell can understand. Except for just one word which I can often still utter.
What is this magic fit-defying word? It’s “Vol-au-vent.” Of course!
Why this is the only word I can say while I’m fitting is a mystery to me (and my carers).
It’s one of the least useful things to be able to say while my body’s wriggling about chaotically on the floor. What would be much more useful would be if I could explain that I needed help or that a particular part of my body was hurting. But Tourettes never seems to work like that.
It’s just a guess, but I think maybe I can say ‘Vol-au-vent’ because each syllable is similar to the sounds I make when I’m fitting.
Whatever the reason it only seems to come up during a fit, when I’m in no position to eat anything, least of all fancy French finger food.
“Do they know it’s Christmas in your mum’s sock drawer?”