The turkey’s over.
It’s time to put out the bins.
The festive decor is past its best as pine needles fall.
Another Christmas Day is past, its memories stored away.
Next Christmas comes in only 362 days!
Sorry to all you music and poetry lovers! I am feeling a little less than the ticket today as I join the long queue of those who feel they have a cold coming on! Ahhh! And I fear this is reflected in the poor quality of the poetry. Hey-ho.
We have good news down here in Somerset-land. My sister is out of hospital (yesterday) and feeling a good deal better than she did a week ago.
I was thrilled to be able to make the trip to see her before Christmas and plan to go again before long. (Buzz and friends have told me they are quite happy to open the Honey Pot without me – but since we are closed until January 12th I will not worry about that quite yet.)
My sister still has a long way to go on the road to recovery – but we are all thrilled that she is over the (initial) worst. Thank you for the kind thoughts and wishes from those of you who wrote to me.
Somerset Christmas-tide is wet, windy and mild. Mary and Joseph are weathering the storm out in the crib – the baby gets showered a bit when it rains, but the shining star is still clinging tenaciously to a buddleia branch.
The family celebrated Boxing Day with the Traditional Muddy Walk. This was muddier than usual – thanks to heavy rainfall. Mind you, veering off the route to explore the edge of the Somerset Levels (or Moors) was bound to be a muddy experience. Our Vicar performed a remarkable Boxing Day Jig – which meant that he regained his balance and failed to collapse in a particularly deep, muddy and watery lake/rut/puddle on the farm track – that would be the track taking us away from where we were meant to be. At the point when we realised that if we didn’t turn back we would be in Bridgwater by night-fall, I very nearly sank down in a rut of despair. "I will not walk back through the mud and the brambles" quoth I, so, instead, we wound our way across fields, avoiding the worst of the mud, to arrive safely back at the Cider Monument, the best part of an hour after we had left it. (Yes, I did write Cider Monument – tell Mel!)
All this took place near Curry Rival (no, I am not making up the names!)
Speaking of which, Colin enjoyed a very tasty take-away curry yesterday, whilst OV and myself indulged in sweet and sour chicken and special fried rice, and SiaB had a vegetable omelette + chips. We know how to party! Well, having muddied our boots on Boxing Day, we took them to the beach yesterday to walk them clean on the shingle – and there’s nothing quite like a walk on a windy beach, with the waves thundering beside you, to work up a healthy appetite!
Having seen Colin off on the train this morning, SiaB and I are considering yet another muddy walk – although the wind is getting up and the fireside tempts us to stay put. He is off tomorrow when all being well and OV and myself fit enought, we plan to attend an outdoor 21st lunch-time party on an Alpine theme. Those who are of a nervous disposition look away now….. as I tell the rest of you that I am going dressed as a Toblerone! Now is that a dignified thing for OVW and the staunch founder of the Honey Pot book shop (etc) to be doing? Well, my defence is that this time between Christmas and New Year isn’t Real Time at all – it is a sort of Narnian escape period in which all the norms of day-to-day life can be set aside. So, when you meet me in 2008 (if you do) I shall deny all knowledge of the Toblerone event… that is unless someone sneaks a photo onto my blog. Mmmm.
Have a happy new year – and may all your resolutions last as long as they ought to do!
See you again in 2008