This year’s Christmas preparations have been busier, longer and more involved than I can ever remember. Why? I don’t know.
In the last two days I’ve cooked lasagne for 11 (three portions will stay in the freezer), 11 pots of marmalade (the number is a coincidence), 130 biscuits for the neighbours (they’re getting the marmalade, too, along with home made wine and beer), 25 rum truffles and a second batch of yoghurt, to replace the disaster that was our first attempt.
We’ve been over to the nature reserve to find our Christmas branch, put up decorations, hung the cards on strings, finished our shopping and done most of our wrapping, although we’ve both run out of paper. Now all we want to do is sit down and relax.
This morning’s trip to Sainsbury’s, to get last minute forgotten supplies, wasn’t entirely pleasant. We’d tried going last night but gave up a quarter of a mile from home, having sat in the car for 25 minutes. This morning it took almost that long to get to the front of the queue at the tills, but at least we now have two nets of lemons and some eggs (the shame of having to buy such things when you have uncooperative chickens in the garden is hard to explain).
But the world still looks pretty in the snow, even if it is turning to slush and ice in some places, the festive TV is generally excellent so far, with a whole night of Victoria Wood last night, and an excellent biog on Oliver Postgate on BBC4 tonight (must pay more attention to what they show).
Neither of us has had time to do any of our personal things so far, like blogging on Rich’s part, or editing the book on mine, but despite the busy-ness I’m enjoying the run-up, well aware that Christmas does indeed only happen once a year and is always well worth the effort.
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