“Santa” has been and gone and done. Parcels have been unwrapped. Chaos has been created. Mince pies have been eaten. Potatoes have been peeled.
I went back to sleep after the presents. I had considered getting washed and dressed then, but my body had other ideas. A while later I had a shower (our new shower produces actual hot water, and it’s still a novelty) and we went out. Red dresses are the Christmas outfit of choice for middle aged women in our parish.
The turkey is cooking slowly. Soon I’ll have to go and take an active part in proceedings, but I love this quiet bit. Things are taking care of themselves, bubbling and roasting. Girls have been playing with gadgets and sparkles, and will help Nana and Grandad with creating a starter. A mid afternoon meal is eminently sensible. Relaxed, gentle and leaving plenty of time for onesies and board games.
I hope you get to spend today as you’d like. Be gentle with yourself. Hug whoever you have with you (pets and cuddly toys included).
Merry Christmas, bloggy buddies.
Girl 1 “Do you think Nana and Grandad think our house is always this clean?”
Pause to ponder…
Me “Nah, they know us too well.”
I didn’t want to get up. It was cold, I was cosy.
I put the Christmas playlist on shuffle- there are hundreds of songs and you’d never know what could capture the imagination and warm the day.
Oops, wrong Clooney! Can’t imagine how that happened…
Then I got a bad news call. We’ve lost a friend and former colleague. A small girl, younger than mine, has lost her dad. He was late to fatherhood, the proudest of doting dads. He wasn’t a religious man, but this seemed right for him today.
Any other day, this is the song that makes me smile out loud and think of him. Our mate.
It’s the end of November, we can expect no different. It was so grey and miserable I drew the blinds yesterday at 3.30pm. It’s not quite time for twinkly lights and holiday planning. The shops and the Christmas markets tell us otherwise, but really, we have weeks yet.
Yesterday, the lovely Lauren played a selection of tracks on the theme of ‘no it’s not a Christmas song, but it feels like one’. It was wonderful. There was much singing and smiling in my house. Jake didn’t complain. He’s a good wee pet.
It won’t be long now bloggy buddies, until I remind you of the delightfully bonkers Bob Dylan Christmas album, and the McGarrigle/ Wainwrights, and Kate Rusby, and Tim Minchin, and Tracey Thorn and whatever new wonder I find.
Roll on the proper Christmas music. Maybe a fortnight. Maybe just a week.