claytoncast

When I was at school, I used to hate it when Christmas fell on a Friday, one week away from when we had broken up. A week of anticipation, hidden parcels and mounting frustration. Then finding oneself with only a week left to pack full of enjoyment before the January return to school. It’s a little like that this year. Work done, and only the odd zoom call this week with four days more before we can have what remains of Christmas. We are very lucky that our plans were to spend Christmas at home for only the second time in our 24 years together. Having cancelled a visit to see a friend in pantomime on Sunday, we are not going to Devon to see Richard’s family after Christmas. Yet we are on course for the Christmas we wanted. I’m using this week to send messages to those people I haven’t contacted during the past year. It’s not that I want my address book to be any thinner, But it has sometimes been hard to keep in touch with people one sees. There have been no lunch meetings, no afternoo...

A Time for Home In all the 24 years that we have spent together, Richard and I have only ever spent one Christmas together at home. Three years ago, I gave up the unequal struggle of trying to entertain my Mum for the festive holiday as her health had deteriorated, and we hunkered down in our home for the festive frolics. Only for three days, and Christmas lunch was taken out at a restaurant so it was no great hardship. A time to enjoy a home we love at a special moment in the year. Last year we were busy preparing for a once in a lifetime trip to Australia. Three weeks in Sydney, Melbourne and the Hunter Valley. We had the most amazing time. Such a holiday meant we saw nothing of our home last Christmas. No tree went up, no bundle of exciting packages lying under it. No overstocked fridge, and on the sunny beaches of St Kilda in Melbourne, no need for Christmas jumpers. I think if when we were told to lockdown in March, we had known that we would still be under strict limitations at C...