I gave a party. I never give parties. I mulled the wine and decked the halls and the whole family came, from eighty to eight months. I love all the generations, gathered together. It really was quite a success. Stanley the Dog was much admired, and behaved impeccably.
I am quite tired now. There is just time to steep the milk for the bread sauce with onions and cloves and bay leaves for tomorrow, and then I shall collapse in a heap.
I miss my dear departeds, but that’s a thing to be expected, at this time of year. I know you shall be thinking of yours, too.
The choir of King’s is singing O Come All Ye Faithful, and the night outside my window is very black and still. I have that bittersweet feeling that comes on the night before Christmas. I am glad and grateful for all the ones still here, and a little melancholy for the ones that are not. As news comes in of floods in the south of the county, and right down in the West Country, I feel very lucky that I am not stuck on a stranded train. I feel pretty lucky altogether, and I don’t ever take luck for granted.
And here, in this small corner of the wild internet, I feel exceptionally lucky in all the Dear Readers, who have stuck with me so staunchly this year. I send you all love for the Christmas season, and hope you have a delightful day. If Stanley and Red and Myfanwy could speak English and understand the concept of a winter festival, I feel certain they would wish you a very happy and peaceful Christmas too.
Some Christmassy pictures for you:
My dear old ladies, who still live in my heart: