It has been the most beautiful sunset, viewed, somewhat wistfully, from the taxi rank this evening.
I was going to describe it to you, but of course you know what sunsets look like and so you do not need me to wax lyrical about rose pinks and rose golds and rose greys, and all of the other meteorologically-inspired poetical stuff. It was splendid all the same, and I was jolly glad I was here to see it. As we recollect from yesterday’s entry, not everybody has been so monumentally fortunate.
As my grandfather used to say, every day above ground is a bonus. I like to remember that.
Also it is nice to be at the time of year where one can reasonably expect to catch both the sunrise and the sunset without needing to make any extra early-rising effort at all, most especially when it is not raining and you can appreciate the general celestial pinkness.
It has not been raining today, and I would have liked to go out and trudge up to the top of the fell to see if I could see the sea, but I didn’t, because I had too much stuff to do. Instead I went into Lucy’s dismantled room and scrubbed away black mould and grime, and swept up sawdust.
Tomorrow I will start to paint it, if I get round to it. I am expecting to get round to it, but there is many a slip, etc, and I do not like to offer challenges to the Gods, so we will not make any firm commitments.
I do not really want to be decorating. I am absolutely longing to start doing getting-ready-for-Christmas things. Last year when we made the long journey north to collect Oliver we were fortified by home made mince pies, and so far this year I have failed to produce a single one. I felt uncomfortably guilty about this until I remembered that last year the end of term was a week later.
We have bought the Christmas tree, from the lovely chap with the reindeer. Soon it will be bright, and shimmering and lovely, but for now it is waiting in the conservatory, like a girl before she is dressed in her jewellery and ball gown, or like me before I put my new boots on.
We will probably put it into the new living room before we collect Oliver, so that he can help to decorate it when he comes home. I remembered this morning that I have not yet bought any lollies to hang on it this year. Christmas trees ought mostly to be hung with chocolate and lollies and miniature bottles of one’s favourite alcohol. Apart from their obvious benefits they will not need to be wiped and put away in January.
Our Christmas tree is going to be a little less crowded than usual this year. This is because Lucy, who has her own very-grown-up Christmas tree now, has taken all of her Christmas decorations from our house to hang on it. In years whenever we have gone anywhere exciting in the winter, we have all chosen a Christmas tree decoration and brought it home to hang on the tree. Now Lucy’s have gone with her, and Oliver’s half of the matching pair of gremlins will be forever alone.
It is starting to feel as though it might start to feel like Christmas soon. The attached picture is partly of Pepper, but mostly of the snow on the distant fells. In a few short weeks it will be here, and I am not in the least little bit organised.
We are going to Scotland next week. We will collect Oliver and then it will be Christmas.
I think I am going to stop writing and go and look for lollies on Amazon.
