The small things that make Christmas
Hello. How are you? How are things? Ready for festivities? I missed the village Christmas tree light switch on because I had gone to do a click and collect at Waitrose and I was busy putting my shopping in a box. At no other time of the year would I ever keep food in a box, but it suddenly makes sense at Christmas. As a child, I remember a low box full of vegetables, a stalk of sprouts sticking out the top, placed in the cool of the cellar. I remember the chest of drawers that was kept in the dining room was opened only once a year to get out the best silver cutlery out. It also contained the fantastically 80's red linen festive place mats and, slightly oddly, the trumpet that my mother played as a child and a velvet riding hat. It was well suited to occasional use as the drawers stuck horribly and they took both hands and a knee to jiggle back in. It is now the chest of drawers in my bedroom and its drawers still stick, which makes me think of how magical Christmas feels to a child, and also that it does not encourage me to put away my laundry as often as I should.
This week has not been a week of making memories and, if I am honest, the days have blurred into one, punctuated only by post office queues and the closing and opening credits of Midsomer Murders. I know I have said this before, but truly, post offices are the best sources of local gossip I have ever discovered. But my shop is shut, all my boxes have been packed, every envelope has been addressed and stamped (did you see my reel? Honestly, making that was the best fun I had all week) and I am ready for some creativity, some time just messing about in the garden, and some sleep. I have signed up to Sarah Mason's film course for January and I can't wait. This week I will be spending some quality time with my camera in preparation, and I will be sharing the results with you in my usual journal next Sunday night. Normal service will be resumed, I promise.
Until then, have a lovely week.
Much love,
G x
