I thought that because I was not at work now, this would not feel like a holiday but, much to my surprise, and for reasons I am still pondering, these last two weeks have been one of the best holidays ever.
I had been feeling fairly lacklustre when, rather late in the day, the spirit kicked in. In a panic about the presents I did not have, I sat up into the early hours of Christmas Day making a necklace using the remnants of some green silk I have had for twenty years (instructions available in this book). And after I put on the turkey, in the glorious peace before the sun was up on Christmas Day, I sat hand sewing a handkerchief from some tana lawn (coveted after a visit to see Grayson Perry's Walthamstow Tapestry). Said hankie has already had an outing to see the football at West Ham in the pocket of my brother's overcoat.
Then the holiday began. Christmas pudding for breakfast, cake and sherry for tea, cats competing for prime position nearest the fire and playing hide and seek under the tree, getting up late, feeding a cold and sleeping off the aches and sneezes in the afternoon, seeing friends and family, wearing party frocks with woolly tights, watching the Red Shoes and New Year's Eve fireworks, walking in the freezing wind by the seaside, hunting Stanley Spencer spots and checks in Cambridge and London, catching up on mending, candlelight for warmth, boiling stock and making soups, looking out for abominable snowmen.
And enjoying the first glass of sloe gin while I took down the decorations today.
A late start and a proper twelfth night finish. Here's to 2010 and being bolder.