Merry and Bright

And so, somehow, we’re almost at Christmas.

I’m typing this at the kitchen table and I literally can’t feel my fingers. The joiner’s here today finishing off some work, so the doors have been open (front door included) since this morning. It’s still freezing cold and snowy outside, and I’ve reached that point where the shivering has progressed to shaking. My hands are blue…

I don’t know where the past few months have gone. We’ve been so busy trying to get on top of things after the disruption of a house move, that time has literally flown. Again.

Joe’s having a great few weeks at school: Christmas dinner and parties, festive baking, a film viewing tomorrow (Elf), working on the school newspaper - and on Friday morning they’re having a carol service at the church in the village. A group of us are meeting in the tea room afterwards to thaw out and have tea and cake.

We’re more or less prepared for Christmas; most of the presents are bought and the cards sent. Just a few last minute bits and pieces to do and then we can slow down a bit.

This weekend we’ll be heading across to Lancashire to deliver a few more cards and to put flowers on my mum’s grave. Then on Sunday hopefully we’ll take it easy (although, realistically, that’s unlikely because there are jobs to be done).

Next week it’s just me and Joe. We’re planning some nice festive activities together; maybe a little trip or two out, some baking, watching films, reading.

Christmas plans are pretty minimal, as always. Just us three mostly. Walks, food, Detectorists on Boxing Day, His Dark Materials on Sunday… I still have no idea what’s going on with that one but Joe seems to follow it.

We’ve been enjoying the recent snow. Up here on the hill we had a good covering, so we’ve been out with the sledge and we built a snowman on the school field.

In the evenings it’s hot baths and keeping warm by the stove. Joe loves lighting the fire. It’s much cosier than our old house, particularly with the addition of the Christmas tree. We’ve put up a mantel and mirror too, found at an antiques centre nearby.

Village life is suiting us.

The cat still insists on following us to school if he’s not shut in the house - he gives me the slip as I try to sneak out without him, darting past my feet. I wouldn’t mind if he was quiet but he performs this running commentary in horrible guttural meows and it sounds like he’s got a megaphone - the volume is something else. Everyone else seems to appreciate it though, and he’s appeared on the local Facebook group a few times.

He likes getting into other people’s cars.

I was followed into the post office on Monday morning and he went off exploring behind the counter. I’m looking like a crazy cat lady a few decades early…

I tend to walk down into Hebden Bridge if there’s anything needs picking up - or to work from the library due to ongoing internet problems (don’t ask). Admittedly, I catch the little bus back up as it’s a long and steep climb. The bus itself is pretty sociable as everyone knows one another.

At the minute Hebden looks very pretty, with the frost and snow, and the window displays.

Last month we went to Robin Hood’s Bay.

We’d long promised Joe a trip to go fossiling during the autumn (and after so much stress with working on the house and moving, a change of scenery was needed). So we set off early and enjoyed the countryside on the long drive to the coast.

It was chilly but not bitter like it is now. And not overly crowded either.

Joe had his customary ice cream. I had a hot chocolate. We’d brought a packed lunch with us, so all was well.

Robin Hood’s Bay is a quaint little village with sloping, narrow streets and-red roofed cottages (the vast majority of which seemed to be holiday lets). There were inns and a secondhand bookshop, tea rooms and a chocolatier. Lots of places to eat fish and seafood, and tempting shops selling gifts and clothes.

Of course, the main event was the beach.

Joe had his archaeologist’s hammer and goggles (which he insisted on wearing on top of his head even when we’d finished breaking stones). There was a lot of evidence of fossils: ammonites and fossilised shells mostly. He absolutely loved it.

I think, having spent three of his formative years on Skye, he’s in his element by the sea. He’d happily have stayed there all day.

That trip already seems like it was a very long time ago.

The snow has slammed the door firmly closed on autumn; there’s been no gradual transition really. We’re now very much in the realms of magical winter, and the cold snap has meant the snow hasn’t melted away.

Tomorrow I’m going to finish a few jobs and then just take a break. It’s my last day of quiet before the holidays begin, and I’ve been feeling run down and a bit ropey. I haven’t been sleeping lately and that’s never good. So once the school run’s done and one or two minor chores are dealt with, I’m going to do the unthinkable and just… stop.

Maybe watch a film. Maybe read (I’m currently on Hercule Poirot’s Christmas* after finally finishing the seemingly endless but fascinating Sylvia Plath biography).

I find it incredibly hard to switch off. It’s a mixture of guilt, I think, and being programmed to be busy at all times. Multitasking with bells on. It’s particularly challenging when you’re at home as there are so many micro distractions. But I’ll try to ignore that little voice listing all the ‘shoulds’.

I don’t know if I’ll post again before Christmas, but if not: Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a warm and bright festive season.

S

*Have you seen Lucy Worsley’s series on Agatha Christie (BBC)? I’d recommend it.