The delivery truck arrived at the gates of Huntington Manor, buzzed the intercom, and was allowed entry by a perky woman on the other end of the line. He drove along the gravel and stopped in front of the impressive doors, where a smiling man in his early thirties trotted down the steps to greet him with a firm handshake.
"Ah, thank you - I was starting to get worried about these." The smooth English accent fairly shouted the man's country of origin, and the driver couldn't help but grin in reply.
"No problem. Having a big party?" As he spoke, he opened the back doors of his truck, and looked at crate after crate of Mince Pies - whatever the hell they were.
The Englishman chuckled quietly. "Ah, no, actually. These are for one person, and I've never been able to deny her anything she wants."
The deliveryman goggled. "One... person?"
A laugh greeted his stunned expression. "Oh, yes. And we're expecting some yule logs, Christmas puddings, chocolate liqueurs and at least five turkeys, too. They're due later today." The house owner leapt easily into the back of the truck and began effortlessly passing down crates. "And, despite all that, honesty compels me to admit that she still has an incrediby pert backside that I just can't get enough of."
Minutes later, the driver was rushing away to pick up his next delivery, muttering to himself. "Mad dogs and Englishmen..."
((The above was a little something I wrote in reponse to an email from Plas where he mentioned to me that Kit had better get Mince Pies, or the world would tremble - I thought it was silly enough to pop here, too.))