Pictorial blethers

By blethers

Through the years

I'm sitting at the front of the house, in the study. It's nearly midnight, despite my best intentions, and I can hear the gale blowing from the rear of the building, where it's building up to be a fairly boisterous night. Let's hope we still have power in the morning - Himself had a text from whoever looks after our power today, reminding him of the number to phone if we're cut off - this because we're "elderly". Harrumph.

It's been windy all day, with showers of fine rain that made it look as if someone was using a pressure washer next door. I spent the morning wrapping the rest of my Christmas presents and organising them for transport to Edinburgh - except, that is, when the friend from church who is hosting the Posada family tonight turned up at the door, wouldn't bother taking off her coat and coming in for coffee, and then chatted long enough to have two cups and a sizeable snack! It was fun, though. 

After lunch I went to collect prescriptions (had to reject one box of tablets because they were the make that put talc in as excipient) and to buy almonds in the supermarket. It was heaving, so I left hastily. I'd forgotten to bring a bag, so I was carrying the almonds and a litre of milk in my arms and told the security guard that I thought I looked like a shoplifter ... He looked only slightly startled. Mad old bat.

Then I finished decorating the tree. I never feel the same about our now three-year-old artificial tree; in some ways it's harder to make it look good than a nice, irregular real one - but it's so much easier to deal with other wise. I felt quite sad, really - decorations like this wee Santa on a camel carry such memories and I wished I had a couple of small boys getting in the way again... The Santa, if I remember correctly, was given to the boys by one of the Art teachers in the school who became a family friend and sang tenor in our church choir here; he was the brother of Brigit Forsyth, the actress, who died last month. I learned in the aftermath of that news that Chris himself died only last January/February, which added to the awareness of time passing ...

But if I start thinking like this again I shall never get to sleep. I have to shop tomorrow, gale or no gale!

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.