This is the time of waiting, as the bible says, and I do like to remember what we’re celebrating at this time of year. It doesn’t bother me at all if other people don’t because I believe in respecting people of all faith and no faiths. And cats too, although I’d respect a certain black and white one that’s taken to sitting squarely in front of the TV screen a lot more if he didn’t think that compromises were something that other people do to make his life easier!
So here I am, typing this on the morning of November 30th, having been mugged by the first draft of a Windy Bay Christmas story for next year. I woke up at 4am on Wednesday with the characters chattering in my head, so went down and started typing. A bit over 40,000 words later they’ve told the first draft of their story and, as always, left me with loads of research to do and sore hands for some strange reason.
I don’t know why I do this to myself. I ought to know that saying ‘I’m going to have a lovely quiet time without the pressure of writing a first draft’ makes the ideas fairy flutter around like a sniggering, smirking and so enticing little Tinkerbell. Did you know, by the way, that when you meet her in the original book of Peter Pan she’s on her way back from an orgy. As my husband said when he’d finished spluttering ‘that didn’t happen in the Disney movie.’
Today is St Andrew’s Day. He’s the patron saint of Scotland, and I’m following my new project of celebrating with traditional food with this St Andrew’s cake. Apologies to all Scots, but it seems to me to be a cross between a lardy cake, a Chelsea bun and a current bun. It’s fresh out of the oven and perfuming the house and here it is with my pretty ivy bone china tea set, all ready for a lazy leisurely breakfast before I do the ironing. Yeah, a writer's life is so glamorous.
Tomorrow, it will be the first Sunday in advent and we will put up the trees and start to put up the decorations. Today I shall decorate the tiny picea glauca conica which look just like little Christmas trees. They only grow a few inches a year so I have real Christmas trees on the back garden windowsills and put little baubles on them and on the yellow luitum japonica azalea. I’ve give up on solar lights after it occurred to me that it’s a daft thing to try to do at the darkest time of the year. I do have lights in the back garden though. They look like flaming torches and lanterns and remind me of a special night when I thought my husband wouldn’t see another Christmas. Back then, they felt like defiance when I saw a much bigger display. Now, I add to them every time they’re on sale and they glow and make me smile. And, of course, they make it much easier to go down to the bin and call the cats at night.
I also go a little nuts with the LED candles, so here is my living room mantelpiece, and also, just to prove that it isn't just me, here's the yacht haven on Poole Quay.
So Christmas comes to the Brown household. A lot of practical, a lot of ‘how did I let myself in for this’ a little stardust, a lot of magic. When we meet again I shall be all excited because I’m going to be an elf as the Santa train goes round to raise money for people who aren’t as lucky as I am. That definitely goes into the magic category, and I hope you have a magical week too.
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