I can hardly tell you how jolly splendid it has all been.
We have had a nautically themed Christmas. We have watched two films, one called Moana and the other was the Pirates Of The Caribbean, both of which tell thrilling stories of ocean adventures.
This might not sound like an especially marvellous way to spend Christmas Day to you, but I can promise that it was. We do not see many films, and to see two in one day was hedonism beyond words.
The most important thing about the day, however, was something entirely unexpected, and which makes me shiver at our good fortune even now as I think about it. Truly the Gods have been smiling on our house today.
As you know, we went out for our dinner at the Indian restaurant. More of that in a minute.
The thing was that when we got back, we discovered that we had left the candle in the hearth still alight, and the curtain from in front of the boot cupboard was dangling actually in it.
Actually in the candle itself, resting on the top of the glass.
It had obviously been pushed there when we got our coats to go out.
I do not know how the curtain did not catch fire. It should have done.
I do not know how flames did not climb the curtains and set the entire house ablaze.
It would have gone up like a newspaper-stuffed Guy Fawkes on Bonfire Night.
I can hardly bear to think of it.
I can hardly believe we were so colossally careless and yet the Gods rescued us.
We lit another candle, safely, on the kitchen windowsill, in gratitude, and resolved never to do anything so massively stupid ever again.
Truly, truly, we have been beyond fortunate this Christmas.
I just wanted you to know that.
Apart from that, and maybe especially that, our Christmas has been wonderful, drenched in the happiest times.
Mark and I woke up at eleven. We had made coffee and were sitting in bed holding hands by the time Oliver emerged, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
He came to sit on our bed to savour the excitement of Christmas for a few minutes before going to wake Lucy, and we all trooped downstairs to see if Father Christmas had been, which of course he had.
Once we had all marvelled at stockings filled with books and sweets, amazingly enough exactly what the children wanted, we cooked scrambled eggs for breakfast and we all went together to take the dogs for a long walk through the dark Cumbrian mist.
We were giggly when we got back, because of trying out dance steps on the way. I can still do the one where you leap in the air and click your heels, although these days my landing is not the springy event that it once was. Think of a dropped sack of bricks.
I boiled milk in a pan and made hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows whilst the children moved the sofa round and Mark dragged our film-watching set out from under the stairs. This comprises a large television screen and an elderly computer.
We squished on to the sofa, which was intimate, it is a good job we all shower regularly, and watched good old Jack Sparrow and the Pirates of the Caribbean, which was brilliant. I liked the Caribbean island village at the start of the film, and we resolved that we would design our new garden and conservatory to look like it, watch this space.
When the film had finished we suggested that the children opened their enormous presents, which were from us, and which turned out not to be Frankenponies after all, but new office chairs for their bedrooms, with tilting backs and wheels and which would give you a massage if you plugged them in.
Like the Frankenponies, however, they needed some complicated assembly, which was why we had opened them early, and by the time Mark had finished screwing them together it was time to go for dinner. Oliver was so pleased that he did not want to get out of his, and said that he was jolly glad it wasn’t a Frankenpony after all.
We were almost late by the time we had finished putting the chairs together, and rushed out in a hurry, which was why we forgot not to set the house on fire, and the Indian restaurant was brilliant.
It was magnificently good food. We ate, and ate, and ate. We had poppadoms and spicy curries and wine, and sank back in our chairs when we had finished, and were barely able to waddle across to the till.
We staggered back across the road afterwards, groaning and contented, and then found out that our house was not on fire, which was even better.
We opened our Christmas presents then, because it was seven o’ clock and dark, and were all very pleased with their contents. There was a gorgeously smelling diffuser, which is a clever invention with oil and sticks, and a pretty decanter. Number One Son-In-Law had had the inspired idea of buying me some Chanel soap, which was a joyous discovery. I had sent them soap as well, except it was only my own home-made sort, and made me feel a bit outdone.
There was a bottle of port, and my very favourite sort of scented candle, which is the flavour of Jim Beam and maple syrup, and which I like beyond anything. Mark bought me books, which was just splendid. There is a contented January in front of me filled with beautiful scents, and rich port, and new books.
Mark had a thing for unblocking drains, which pleased him immensely, because he is interested in drains, and a handy mirror on a telescopic stick, and a drill and electric screwdriver kit, which I had clubbed together to afford with Number One Daughter, and which has made him a happy man.
The children had money, and sweets, and various other bits and pieces which made us all feel very pleased with our generous world, how kind people have been. We all sighed with happiness, and then retired in great excitement to watch the second film of the day, and to reassure the dogs, who had found all of the excitement a bit troubling.
Moana was lovely. It had the most beautiful scenes and colours of almost any film I have ever seen, and was quite enchanting.
We are filled with good times and good food. We are sleepy and happy and overwhelmed with the splendidness of the world.
What wonderful good fortune we have.
The picture is the Frankenponies being unwrapped.
