Happy New Year, chums!
Well, dry January’s toasted.
I tried to tell Papa I was attempting to go sober for an entire month, but he swayed me with a dinner of pan-fried salmon and roasted vegetables, which of course had to be paired with a crisp 2023 Beaujolais (I’m not an animal).
In fact, we’ve been enjoying rather a lot of roasted items recently. Mummy and Papa decided to have a "no gifts" Christmas - their holiday interrailing in the frozen North was “a gift for both of them” - so of course they each tried to out-do one another on Christmas day in the morning.
Despite the constant protests, Papa ‘reluctantly’ accepted what has become a staple in the Trend-Vandenburg household.
A Lakeland air fryer.
Chums, have you ever tried such a treat? Mummy originally believed it was simply for those who couldn’t afford to use the roasting oven in the bottom of the AGA, but after finding a brilliant review in November’s Which? Magazine, she was swayed to the dark side by the promise of quick and simple homemade sweet potato wedges.
It’s now the most-used commodity within Thornberry View, seeing culinary action almost every evening as the Trent-Vandenburgs enjoy some air-fried bruschetta with The Traitors.
Of course, the post-Crimbo period was not without conflict. Notably, Mummy did not take kindly to her gift of Davina McCall’s Get Fit in 15 in place of her usual selection of Hotel Chocolat truffles. In Papa’s defense, that Peloton she got herself during lockdown has laid dormant in the conservatory for several months.
She claims it’s because she no longer fits the specially-designed shoes she bought with the bike, but we all know she’s just upset about her favourite trainer (the hunky Giovanni) ending his one-on-one routines.
It’s not just the folks who had fun, chums! I found myself partaking in some New Year’s Eve festivities at my old schoolmate Elliot’s humble abode. And what a rager it was! Obviously there were no females present (all-boy’s school), but your favourite passionate party powerhouse was still able to pluck up a New Year’s kiss.
I am, of course, referring to me drunkenly snogging the photograph of Elliot’s great-aunt Doris. In my defense, she had a vital role in the Thatcher cabinet, and I’ve always fancied a woman in power (that’s right, Jonty’s a feminist!).
The Moretti was flowing that night, and Past Jonty (the cheeky bugger) made some resolutions that Present Jonty is having a spot of bother attempting to keep up.
Namely, I might have told several fellows that I would not step foot inside a Whittard’s until the dawn of 2027. Of course, this was entirely impossible. They released a new set of teas for the month of January and I simply had to indulge.
So with my tum-tum full of lychee and rose, I return to the darkened streets of Bloomsbury to resume my studious efforts. But it’s not all gloom and doom, chums!
Mummy and Papa gifted your favourite lackadaisical literateur an all-expenses paid trip to the mountains of Monaco in order to hone my journalistic pursuits. I’ll be attending a primo writer’s retreat throughout reading week, hosted by some washed-up novelist/politician/documentarian (take your pick).
What this means for you, chums, is you’ll be the first to hear about how my planned autobiography begins! That’s right, Jonty’s hitting the shelves! Now, it’s still in the early stages (I don’t know what I’ll write about) but it’s sure to be enormously relatable as I regale you all with exploits from my troubled childhood.
Unfortunately I’ll be missing Valentine’s Day, but I don’t think my parents seem that upset. Mummy said something about them ‘repairing the marriage’ while I’m away, whatever that means.
If any potential suitors are gutted at the knowledge that I’ll be absent, please email me at archbishop-of-banterbury@gmail.co.uk.
- Jonty Trent-Vandenburg