There is a haunted look about the place today. The orchard is a spectral grove of skeletal trees bearing baubles of hollowed out apples. The gravel garden has the air of Miss Havesham’s wedding feast, with eerily preserved frozen shades of summer’s bounty. Driving down our rollercoaster of a road into town for coffee with friends this morning, we seemed to be sometimes surfing, sometimes sinking under, rolling breakers of icy fog and I couldn’t help but think, as the grey mists engulfed us, of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. It all seems a far cry from the golden tones and slanting sunlight of November (now remembered in a glowing haze with the mud and rain cropped out).
The beginning of December passed in rather a blur. Old friends from my first year Halls of Residence at university staged a mini reunion as Mollie was coming over from the states for the first time in over 20 years. The sewing room descended into a seething welter of offcuts and thread and the kitchen took on the air of Merlin’s workroom as last minute presents for some of the London contingent were accelerated for personal, rather than postal, delivery. We made the train, just, bearing what seemed like a tonne of jars and bottles and many hastily wrapped packages. After a virtual jog along the south bank bearing a goodly portion of said encumbrances, we puffed into lunch five minutes late to the news that the West Country party had been stalled by a mystery train failure. We consoled ourselves with wine and bread and caught up with the London contingent. In the end we rolled out of lunch around 4.30, after closing time for the Tower of London (which had been planned as the Afternoon’s educational activity), firmly of the view that no-one had aged in any whit, jot or tittle. The Tower we tackled, in minute detail, the following day to general satisfaction. Hampton Court was held over for further reunions, hopefully in warm weather. After a stop over with us here on the border, the Californian contingent returned to the Alma Mater and at the last report were revisiting several “pubs of yore.”
Having waved off Mollie and Steve, there was nothing to be done other than to buckle down to Christmas. The sit rep currently stands as follows:
Cakes iced: 5 (three little gift cakes are being kept incognito in a tin)
Advent calendar innards and quizzes delivered: 4 and one on the kitchen table which will necessitate an inaugural 7 day binge
Christmas jumpers knitted: a rather worrying 1, one half and a third….
Random home made stuff: copious quantities complete – a few at the “concept” stage which may be held over
Christmas shopping: all but abandoned. Coming to the conclusion that life is too short
Presents needing dug out and wrapped before the last posting date: none yet commenced
So – that’s all good then….
