Merry Christmas 2015

Well, this is what it's all been about - coming home to the UK. Last Christmas was a total non-event, so this year I wanted to do the whole shebang. Trimmings and sparkle. Festivate myself into a coma.

Loved decorating the tree with mum the other day. Weather has been totally weird. Middle of December and we have strawberries flowering in the garden! The weather has been so mild, except for a couple of nights when it felt really cold. I half hoped it might snow, but Christmas day was drizzle, downpour and high winds. I think there's now a Scottish Channel between England and Alba - about where Carlisle used to be.

Caught up with a couple of friends and attended a totally packed carol sing-along at our local.

Plus an impromptu lock-in with a fabulous pianist called Lincoln who rocked the bar until 1AM. That wasn't the only thing that left me smiling. When I very first got back, my mum was having her front drive redone. A very talented group of builders managed to turn this:

Into this:

*round of applause*

Well, you might also remember that one of those builders turned out to be a guy I used to play with as a kid, but hadn't seen in almost twenty years. Well, he turned up down the pub for that lock-in, and I was amazed - and slightly embarrassed (as I have two left feet) - to discover that he can dance! One moment I was throwing myself around the floor, the next, I had a tall, muscular accomplice. 

I'm a little glum because I'd like to catch up with him properly, but I have no way of contacting him. So, remembering from before that he collects old bottles, I decided to go on a little jaunt. I found a completely incredible antique shop in Northampton called The Old Bakehouse. They have a little village of beach huts out back crammed full of curiosities - everything from dolls' houses to a horse trap. You could get lost in there for decades. 

I soon found a collection of antique bottles and chose an unusual green-glass one. I've put a message in it and wrapped it up for my friends at the bar to give to his friend to give to him. It would be nice to see him again before I fly back to Rwanda, but I'm not holding my breath.

I discovered this in the upstairs room and it fascinates me. It's apparently Victorian. The background is entirely made from thistledown. What a beautiful idea.

Christmas Day was absolutely wonderful. I spent it with 'the kids' (L-R: Lenny, Victor, Milly, Gerald and Woodsy), Mum, Merrick, our friends Steve and Mervyn, and our friends Toni and Dan who run the pub. We drank until the bar closed, then ate ourselves stupid on lamb and turkey with all the trimmings, happily sozzled on G&T, champers, wine and grand marnier with Christmas pudding, chocolate log and fruit salad for pudding. 

It has been splendid, and I know I'll still be salivating over that dinner for months to come once I'm back to goat brochette and melange. I've actually got to the point where I'm slowing down a little with food. When I got back it was a case of whatever I could cram in my mouth, but now I've become accustomed to the idea that a huge selection of food is everywhere all of the time and I've calmed down a bit. I'm sure I'll panic-eat in the last week before getting on the plane.

I booked my ticket back for the first week in Feb. I'm not even thinking about it yet, but I know the time is drawing near. At the moment I'm just focusing on packing tomorrow, heading down to Dartmoor where Dad, Marilyn and Aunty Jean have rented a cottage. I've saved my presents for, and from, them to open together in front of a wood-burning stove. 

Going to do Christmas all over again for New Year.