I think it's going to be a case of gallimaufry posts here for the foreseeable as I drift into Christmas, and thence to the Southern Hemisphere, and I am experiencing an odd mix of sadness and huge excitement as I do.
The bough is a-twinkling and I knew it would happen..
As I opened the box of decorations there was the card the Tinker had sent to us last Christmas with 'thank you for all you do for me' written inside. I think I'd had a funny feeling it might be his last, but alongside it was the joke card he bought me years ago which also comes out every year....Cliff Richard, and he sings 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' when you open it. Cliff's battery is going to run out one of these years, but it sits on the shelf and we all give it a little flick open every so often, and everyone groans and shouts 'NOT NOW CLIFF! '
It's tradition.
Nor had I realised how much time, thought and effort I had always put into choosing the Tinker's Christmas presents. He was very easy to buy for...the slippers, a new jumper, some socks would always give him great delight, whilst a boxed set of DVDs would help to see him through the January/February remembrances of the loss of my mum and my brother.
It's a strange thing, the ambush of the dates, I'm sure many of you understand this too...
Elizabeth Bowen has something to say about gifts in that book of essays People, Places, Things in a piece entitled The Art of Giving.
'The gift starting its journey has more than a destination, it has a destiny - to enter a life and play its part.... the object of giving it to give pleasure. Much pleasure turns on memory - the fact of being remembered and, no less, those memories which the gift may evoke...'
We would buy the Tinker funny gifts too, he and Bookhound would regularly exchange floral ironing board covers, and I keep on seeing things that I know he would have loved. Last week it was one of those photo cushions with a gorgeous Border Collie staring out...he'd have called it Ben (after our first dog) and tucked it up on his sofa. So our annual toast to Absent Friends will hold special meaning this year, and I am thinking plenty of you will know all about this space that is left behind too.
But in amongst it all I am packing for The Trip (the sleeps will soon be into single figures) and am so excited to be seeing Offspringette.
I have done the most important thing apparently and that is removed all trace of one Shire from my walking boots, and disinfected them before I visit another Shire.
But then there's the cabin baggage.
Hours and hours spent deciding on a carry-on bag and, as a handbag is allowed as well, finding something capacious enough to decant the essentials, and in my head I run through it all.
Right...put that there, and keep that there...move that to there, have that ready for getting through security...
Which shoes will be easiest to get on and off...
Which will be the most comfortable in flight...
Which will I need for the scurry across Changi airport where I have barely two hours before hopping on the connecting flight to Christchurch.
Thank you so much for all your in-flight suggestions and thanks to people who have sent me things various, you are very kind and everything very helpful.
I now have the ear plugs, the eye-mask, the neck pillow, the footrest pillow (this takes a lot of puff to inflate I might have to hand it around) the light-weight blanket, the anti-bac wipes, the flight hose (properly measured ones) the fluffy socks, the headphones, the Ipad, the Kindle, the power bank, the actual book, the toothbrush, the face wipes, the plastic bag filled with no more than 1 litre of liquid essentials ... moisturiser, mouthwash, toothpaste, the emergency meds (who'd be at 40,000 feet without Imodium Melts) the change of clothes for arrival (Rohan very summer)...
I'm sure I've forgotten something...
Passport, journal, pen...
There must be more...
Camera, spare batteries (have to go in hand luggage) and so it goes on...
Oh yes the QUILT...mustn't forget the quilt about to go into its vacuum storage bag in the hope it will take up less space in my hold luggage.
And currently I am practising eleventy-four ways to wear a pashmina on a plane whilst looking stylish and keeping warm. The pashmina, a beautiful shade of turquoise, sent by a dear friend in Canada, was a surprise gift for the journey and I love it. The colour is gorgeous...no matter how I may be feeling after 12,000 miles the colour flatters and enhances.
Whilst her prose might be considered slightly saccharine by some these days I do think Elizabeth Bowen's sentiments hold true...
'But, gifts. let us remember, gather grace on their journey, and receive grace from those to whom they go. Leaving our own hands they may seem imperfect: they are perfected by what comes out to meet them - the glad welcome, the answering memory. To its reception does every gift build up : each one awaits its fulfilling moment.'
How's the wrapping and the shopping and the cooking going your end...
We seem to have filled three freezers here, but at least it will keep Bookhound going through his Home Alone January.
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