I am sorry. This is really short.
It is half past two in the morning and I have spent the entire day making our Christmas arrangements.
It is done now.
We are packed for the lovely, lovely hotel tomorrow. We have written all of our Christmas cards and wrapped all of our Christmas presents.
It doesn’t sound much, but it has taken two of us all day, one of us half a day, and the other one joined us for the evening after Harry went home.
Mark has very kindly been helpful all day. We had a surprising moment when it dawned on me that he is actually better at wrapping presents than I am. We have been married for years and years, and this is the first opportunity I have had to observe this phenomenon. Usually he helps by pouring more wine occasionally and taking the dogs out when they get underfoot.
This will probably change in future.
It is a peculiar thing about life that if a couple does not send Christmas cards or presents it is generally considered to be some sort of omission on behalf of the wife. Nobody at all would think that it was because of Mark’s lack of celebratory enthusiasm if we never sent a single card, including his own family.
In consequence of this Mark is able to amble through December every year without a single agonising pang of guilt or the certain knowledge that he is a rubbish human being. I am occasionally mildly envious of this, but of course, as he pointed out, even if the world did think I was a rubbish human being, it is mostly too polite to say so, and so it doesn’t matter. It is my own Inner Policeman that is causing all of the trouble.
Of course he is right, but nevertheless there is a huge satisfaction in being me this evening, with everything neatly done and tidily stacked downstairs, ready for the post office in the morning.
We have not quite finished the Christmas cards but we will get round to that.
At the moment even my disapproving Inner Policeman has been silenced.
Mostly silenced, that is.
There are some things that have been neglected.
Have a picture of some flowers, just to complete my lack of creative flair this evening.
I don’t care. I am going to bed.
Hotel tomorrow, and everything is ready.
Hurrah!
