Written by Rachel Pyke // @pykiie
Illustrated by Ellie Bassford // @lovefromeleanor_
One Christmas, all I ate was mashed potato.
The table was piled high with food. All the classics were there, the turkey with all her trimmings, a large juicy ham, roasted vegetables, stuffing and sides aplenty, including the mandatory but universally hated brussels sprouts. It was a veritable feast. But all I wanted and cared about was the mashed potatoes.
The meat had been ordered mid-September as soon as the local butchers released their Christmas range. My grandad has the brochure delivered annually and its arrival is the catalyst that starts my family’s Christmas planning. The Whats