06 January 2015

before I forget



In our house, the festive season doesn't end until twelfth night. The cake's gone, the last of the cream has been put in the morning porridge, and there will be soup today to use up any solitary parsnips, carrots and scraps of cheese. I've closed the shutters on the driftwood tree and today we'll take down the greenery and settle down by the fire with a drink and possibly a spicy ginger star biscuit. Next year I won't make so many. I've already reset the alarm clock for dark and cold instead of light and cold. And then the job of shimmying into a shiny new year will be well under way. Before I do though, and at the risk of making you yawn, here are some of the things I want to remember...

Birdsong and the incredible number of robins this year round here. Taking walks at dusk to  hear them. John's delight at seeing a nightjar and mine at coming across that woodcock round the corner.

Taking the bus and sitting on the top deck. The pleasure of doing circular journeys; tube, walk, overground, bus. It's not called the freedom oyster for nothing.


The pleasure of reading again and no qualms about disposing of some books onto the "life's too short" pile. On the other hand, Beryl Bainbridge, Penelope Fitzgerald and Tove Jansson would come with me to my desert island.

Going to the cinema, best of all on wintry afternoons, on my own.

Sewing. I made lots of dresses, seven in total I think. Some were more successful than others, and some were inspired by those trips to the cinema. I learnt a lot.

The seaside. Obviously. The day we spent there to celebrate a significant birthday. A lovely funeral in a windswept corner of Norfolk. It was midsummer and we stayed in a coastguard's cottage overlooking the sea, close to where our friend lived. It was all so right.


Glastonbury with my boy. Warm, generous, uplifting, clever, funny friends and family.  Loads of new babies and new mothers. The women I worked with this year. I don't think they realise how much they've taught me. Nigel Farage can go hang.

Scania - or should that be Wallander Country?
I wasn't brilliant at lightening the load last year- thank you Oliver Burkeman for cutting some slack. At a push this year I might manage to rise and shine.

Wishing you all a shiny time too.

7 comments:

Liz said...

That looks to have been a very good year and I hope 2015 is full to the brim with happies. Thanks for the Guardian link. I think someone here wishes I'd cut him some slack.

SmitoniusAndSonata said...

You always rise and shine !

ALoadofOldTat said...

Beautiful post. I agree the birdsong was amazing here too particular on Christmas morning. Such joy.

Val , Kate, The Cute Kitten ,Razzy, Kepsey,Darwin ,Charon and Echo. said...

Love this post..like Liz I must say thanks for the link ...I have a chair so perhaps I can meditate..?

Either way have a lovely new year!

annjennyg said...

Happy new year! Lovely post. I think it is so heartwarming that it is the so called 'simple' things in life - family, friends, birdsong, that give the most pleasure.

colleen said...

What lovely comments. Even after all these years of blogging it never fails to give me a little thrill to receive them. Thank you all.

materfamilias said...

What a lovely post -- for whatever reason, I found "the last of the cream has been put in the morning porridge" particularly pleasing and resonant. Happy New Year!
And that's a great article -- thanks for linking to it.