Christmas kind of crept up on me this year. You'd think, what with your arrival and various other things it would have been momentous. In fact, I thought it ought to be just that, but in real time, it was a lovely, fairly understated few days with my nearest and dearest.
Perhaps the positive MRI of a few days before took the sting out early, but no, I personally felt like it was another Christmas - a good one, and one I will always cherish, but not as epochal as I'd thought it would be back in, say, the dark, hot days of July.
So, what happened? Well, we got all the decorations up pretty early this year, by Hutchings standards - ours were finished on the 23rd-ish. I couldn't wrap presents worth a damn, so opted for the ever-reliable fail-safe that is the gift bag instead. As a consequence, I was finished with wrapping after about half an hour. I thoroughly recommend this approach should it arise in future, as I was able to make an early start on the Christmas Eve martinis.
Our only real concession to having a noisy nine-month old baby in the house was the addition to our festive arsenal of a fake plastic tree. Then again, you already know that because as you read this, you'll be aware of how redoubtable a tree he has been over the years. At least, I hope so, as he cost a fucking arm and a leg. Anyway, he is a beaut, as you can see from the pics below and throughout.
Our veggie Christmas dinner was fortified with 12 pigs-in-blankets, and your first taste of the unholy matrimony that is sausage. You went a bit mental for it, and I can't really blame you. I had nine of them. Yummy!
Your favourite present, I think, was the big red bus from Tim and Claire (via the good old ELC, natch), but you also loved your tractor and sheep combo, and you don't even know about your illuminated globe yet. Laugh of the Day goes to the unveiling of the giant lion soft toy we picked up from IKEA. You nearly burst with happiness, to be fair, it was pretty awesome.
Boxing Day
We headed over to Sladewyns for additional festivities, but things were tempered somewhat by the realisation that Sparky had liberated about 200g of really quite nice camembert from under our noses. Bastard. You were dressed as an elf throughout, which was downright adorable, obviously.
Concerned that we need to get you out in die frische Luft every day, we even did something on the spur of the moment yesterday - we bogged off to notorious dog hotspot and sandpit Exmouth, about an hours' drive away, to see how quickly one or all of us would have a nervous breakdown. Turns out, nobody did. The dog was completely overwhelmed, and you were rosy-cheeked and laughing all the way. We staggered home, ate leftovers and then your Mum ate some people, thanks to Vampyr, which is very good indeed. A hardcore-but-worthwhile daytrip.
We've pretty much hunkered down at home since, working our way through various supplies of chocolate, booze, cake and other resolution-smashers. I feel pretty good, physically, and psychologically, this little blog is a light in the dark sometimes. New Year tonight always brings back memories of Lucy, a little more so this year as this marks the 18th anniversary of her passing. I still miss her.
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