How are you?
Thought it might amuse you receiving a sort of Christmas card via this blog thing that I do.
We are doing well. 2014 was good to us. I have the usual regrets of not seeing enough of my favourite people. Life plods on though, eh?
The boys are really well. L___declared he loves writing! Can you imagine that? He clearly doesn’t take after any of the men on his mother’s side. Perhaps he takes more after us ladies? Actually, what am I talking about – Grandad’s poems are pretty super aren’t they? But you know what I mean.
On an equally bemusing note, little stubborn S___ got awarded a leaf of kindness at school this term. Yes, I know. That same little boy who can cry for 6 hours straight if you don’t give him a biscuit is, apparently, a role model for all the other four-year-olds in his class. I’m being mean. He’s such a loving boy to us all, I’m just surprised he’s showing that side to authority! Good for him I say.
And as for T___, he’s enjoying his last year at home with his Mummy, and I am enjoying having him to myself. He’s only had the 3 trips to casualty this year, so he’s a long way behind how his Uncle J___ was doing at his age. I won’t lie, it’s a bit of a worry, but now we have pretty much padded the whole house, I’m feeling slightly more confident 2015 will be bump-free. Fingers crossed.
Speaking of padded houses, our extension work has begun in earnest. Big holes, lots of mud, and diggers in the back. The boys don’t watch telly anymore, they just stare out of the window giving the builders the eeby jeebys. You would not recognise the place since you last came down. Do you remember when you were last here and we squeezed around the table eating those lovely sausages? Still got that table. It only table’s could talk…..
We’re nearly all set for Christmas. Few more prezzies to wrap. Wish I’d got the kids a bit more, but what they don’t get, I don’t think they’ll miss. Nanna Boat is going to knit them a jumper each. It’s nice still having a Nanna knit. I miss yours.
Mum threatens to knit us something now and then, but she’s more taken with the sewing machine. Sorry, I never really got on with it, but it’s good to know Mum is putting it to good use. It’s also a lot happier in their lovely home rather than in the crayon-marked chaos that ensues here!
Wish we could get to see you over the next few days. Can’t believe it’s so many years since we spent a Chrsitmas together; since we had those lemon parsnips, and the chestnut stuffing, and the glass of sherry and the after eights.
I’d love to listen to Grandad whistling while you manned the pressure cooker. Perhaps I’d flick through your readers’ digest, admire the garden. But I can’t. I guess that’s life. Or at least, I guess that’s death. Ha.
As a child, when old people died I remember thinking that adults were just equipped to cope with the inevitability of bereavement. But we’re not, are we? I’m not anyway. It never gets any easier, does it? Especially not at Christmas.
It’s funny really, isn’t it, how hard I find it to make the kids’ Christmas as good as you and everyone made mine. When you think about it, we didn’t do that much come Christmas day, did we? Ate too much homemade food, watched the film (it was always Star Wars, wasn’t it? How do I still not have a clue what happens in Star Wars?), had a cuddle and a giggle, put on the Nanna knitwear.
When I think of all the adventurous things I’ve done in my life, it’s those predictable, ploddy Christmas days that I’d like to bottle and share with my new little family once a year. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.
Talking of plodding, I’d better say bye now and plod off to bed. Kids will be up before I know it. They’re getting excited now. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I wish you could see them.