And again is Christmas managed the number one stress appointment for quite a few! When I was a child, we always had goose at home filled with apples and chestnuts. My mother and her life partner took turns roasting the goose. The cooking skills of lovers and husbands were different. For example, my father was a pretty good cook, his successor wasn't, the next one cooked quite passably. But they all failed because of the goose. The goose was either still bloody on the inside, or it looked like a coal buddy just coming from the shift. During the cooking process, my mother stood next to the man and criticized him. That made the men nervous, of course. She said things like "You have to water the goose regularly" or "There are feathers on it" or "The temperature is not right".