It’s twelth night. Time for all the Christmas deccies to come down. Actually, we took them down on the 2nd. It always seems daft to me to keep them up once Christmas and New Year are finished. It seems like so long ago! Not only that, the living room seem huuuuuuge and so bare but anyway, moving on.
In honour of twelfth night and to nod in the direction of the ghost of Christmas recently passed. Here are a few photos from our Christmas. The eagle eyed among you may notice a few new faces in the family. That’s a whole different story.
Here we go then. Christmas at Booful’s lodging emporium. It’s a little peek into our very private world. The world in which I am the most happy. The world that is a constant round of cleaning, cooking, washing up, cuddles, laughter and joy.
I’d been looking forward to and dreading Christmas in equal measure. Trying not to build up the perfect family Christmas in my mind as that always led to disappointment when I was a kid. So many high expectations that end in a brawl or row. Or like an Alan Bennet play, all going swimmingly on the surface but with all these tensions, fuelled by too much alcohol, too much food and close proximity to family members you haven’t seen from one year end to the next bubbling over.
This Christmas didn’t have any of that. This was like the best bit of Dicken’s Christmas Carol and I felt like Bob Cratchit beaming at the head of the table.