I am almost asleep and so not going to tell you very much, but we are here.
We are in the lovely, lovely Midland.
It has a special scent all of its own, a sort of combination of vanilla and bitter orange, and it smells of Christmas, and we breathed it in and sighed with happiness as we walked through the door. We have drunk too much, eaten too much, and then eaten and drunk a bit more. We have strolled around the Christmas markets and looked at Indian scarves and Salford rum and interesting cheese and sheepskin slippers. Life is jolly good.
We are all here now, except the Number Two Daughters, who decided, with many regrets, that flights in December had too many noughts on the end of the number. It is a jolly long way to come from Canada just to see a pantomime so I am not surprised, but maybe next year.
Still the rest of us have assembled now. We have shown up in ones and twos, as the winter traffic allowed, and somehow necessitating another drink every time. By three o’clock we had all nodded off, and slept until it was time to start eating again.
We had the most astonishingly good dinner in a Greek restaurant. I had chicken with feta cheese, which is not a combination which would ever have occurred to me, but which I think I will now eat at every meal for the rest of my life, it was magnificent.
I might write more tomorrow. Today seems to have gone on for a very long time.
Ritalin Boy came top in his science exam. We are all very proud of him.
