This will (unless something really noteworthy, like an earthquake, or thunderbolts happens) almost certainly be the Last Blog Entry Before Christmas. I may, if not horizontal on the carpet at my long-suffering Mother’s House, post one between Christmas and New Year. I may, with luck, decide that my New Year’s Resolution is to join a peculiar branch of a peculiar tree-worshipping sect, and eschew the computer for leafy branches and delightful shadow patterns. But it’s unlikely.
I have few nice new pictures to show people, which is rather mizz. It’s because I’ve been busy being Mama, and having a Rather Nasty Cold, which sentence will be causing stressed Mamas all over the world to nod knowingly in time with me, whilst wading through seas of paper and sellotape, and blowing their noses in synchopated rhythms. We should start a band. Really we should.
However, I can show you the more landscape oriented pictures of the frosty morning walk (and I shall – it is unashamed padding). And some pictures of the glassy, classy baubles on my Christmas Tree, some of which are finds foraged from junk shops and are relicts of chandeliers, and under which people have probably danced, and cried, and looked at for many years. Very Jane Austen, the chandeliers, and the landscape, I think, and that feeling of watching people dancing. Although, to be fair, they did not have telephone wires in Jane’s day. Or cameras, apart from the obscura kind.
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