'Oh well I wish it could be Christmas every day-ay, when the kids start singing and the band begins to play-ay'�'�

I sang along with the radio as it played a cocktail of old and new songs. I sipped my champagne and pushed the paper party hat back up my forehead, now I could see properly. I carried on peeling the sprouts; cutting little crosses into the stems so they would cook more evenly.

I was in my Grandmother's kitchen. I spent most of my childhood in this kitchen and learned to bake here. I didn't have many boyfriends but they had all been here to run her gauntlet and receive approval.

As I washed the carrots I looked through the window that overlooked the garden. A thick hard frost covered everything, it was a winter wonderland. I felt warm and protected, barefoot on the kitchen floor. The under floor heating was heaven.

The smell of the turkey cooking filled the room as I made sage and onion stuffing from a recipe passed down the generations. All the pans were misshaped and older than me. My grandmother had a cupboard full of new things that family and friends had bought her but as she said

'If it's not broken don't mend it'�

My dad had used these words on the day of my wedding when he tried to talk me out of marrying my first love.

This was the first Christmas I had spent at home since my divorce.

My grandmother had gone out early this morning to mass with my aunty and was going straight to my mums for Christmas dinner. She had given me her house and kitchen to use as my own to cook my special meal.

I took the turkey from the oven to let it breathe and cool a little before carving; my mum always served cold turkey and hot roast beef. The topic of cold turkey had been debated many times over the years. I preferred mine hot. I basted the roast potatoes, golden brown they were going to taste delicious. It was coming together beautifully.

I danced around the dining table to a Bing Crosby number, smoothed the golden embroidered table runner and lit the candles. I placed the small vegetable dished on the table and topped up my champagne glass.

I sat down at the table and raised my glass in a toast to the turkey.

I picked up my knife and fork and cut into the turkey. My nose started to run. I dabbed it with a tissue and saw deep red patched of blood. Drops fell on to my dinner plate. I picked up cutlery again and saw my knuckles and fingers were bruised and grazed. I cut the turkey again and lifted the fork to my mouth. As I use my teeth to slide the food from the fork my two front teeth dropped out. I ran to the kitchen sink and filled a glass with ice-cold water from the tap. I drank half the glass quickly. I looked in the small mirror behind the taps and saw a purple black eye, red and blood shot, a hugely swollen cheek and a broken nose.

I returned to the table and finished my celebration meal. Never again would I eat meat. Never again would blood run on my dinner plate and never again would I sit in silence afraid of speaking out.

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