"Love? I haven't carved anything since," he paused, still fighting a laugh, "well, since I decided to arse up Mother's Christmas goose. I somehow doubt I've improved since then. But I'll have a go with it."
He had watched his father a time or two, on other Christmases and had a vague idea of how it was done. It was just a matter of finding the right severing charm and altering it.
When the first bit of meat flopped over onto the plate, he grinned widely. Then carried on with the rest of it and while the slices weren't perfectly even, he felt he'd done a fair enough job with it.