annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Silent Night Here I am at the end of Christmas Day, having just watched the Strictly Christmas special on catch-up, everyone else long gone to bed, heating's gone off, fire's burned down low, warmth disappearing... It's been OK. We were fourteen in the end, a good mix of ages, friends, family and strangers. I was the first to arrive and last to leave as M and I were kind of joint hosts in her house. She said it was one of the best Christmas day's she'd had because it was so peaceful and everyone was just amiable. Her grandchildren are lovely, none of the horror you get from many kids these days who have expectations of having every whim catered to at once. They just played and chatted. The 10 year old girl is a keen cook so she was helping us in the kitchen and asking good questions about why we did things. Like the potatoes - why did we boil them, then after we'd strained them and let them dry out, why did I then put the lid back on and give the pan a good shake? What was that all about? Crispy skins once they'd been transferred into hot fat and a hot oven. Ahh. She sat next to me at the table and was good at trying things she'd not eaten before. My smoked mackerel pate was a hit - she had about three goes on that. Bread sauce, not so much. My two were good value as well. Daughter had brought along a quiz book which she dipped in and out of - trivia questions like capital cities and naming songs from first lines, which all the adults joined in, casually, no teams or keeping track, just calling out answers. Son is always funny and melodramatic. They were great on choosing an album whose tracks they could name in order - he had a go at Oasis's What's the Story Morning Glory - 4 - and she did Dylan's Blood on the Tracks and managed 5. No telly on all day, well, not till we got home when we had a bit of Home Alone 2 and Eastenders. It makes a better retelling than it did at the time though. I just wanted my Sammie to be there. Every time I caught sight of myself reflected in a window I looked the picture of misery and tried to perk up a bit, but that just became a loop. Even when I didn't know what I was thinking about, I could feel the lack of her in my chest. Like a dull ache. For Christmas Bloke got me a set of zoom classes with Cathy Rentzenbrink, about memoir writing. I like her a lot. She's from the US but I have a feeling she's based here. I can't wait to start. Now Shirley's barking, at foxes in the garden probably, so I'm going to stop writing and take her upstairs. Hope you've all had a good day and that none of us pay for it with more Covid. Son had to be fetched - he was OK but knackered. Bed by nine, that kind of knackered. Today I am grateful for: having a life with so many good, kindly people in it, who take me as I am. 12:32 a.m. - 26.12.21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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