Ho ho ho

Ah, thank you so much to my soothingly not-quite-yet-Christmassy commenters. Above you see Daughter 2 with Sirius, who is taking a relaxed approach to the season.

The cold is receding somewhat (though Mr Life has it now, alas) and I might be beginning to feel slightly more festive. The cards are all posted and this evening Daughter 2 and I made two Christmas cakes, one for us and one for my mother. (I follow the recipe – butter, sugar, eggs, flour, mixed dried fruits, glacé cherries and so on, though leave out the salt. “That makes it really healthy,” suggested Daughter 2.)

We collect our tree tomorrow. We always have a real one. I’m not sure whether this is environmentally allowable or not – I suppose it depends whether it comes from round about here or from the Amazon rain forest - but at least it’s not plastic and will presently be recycled into bark chippings. And what would Christmas be without that nostalgic piney scent; that annual moaning sound which is Mr Life struggling (this year, through his sneezes) to make the tree stand upright in its holder; and those sharp little needles piercing deep into any besocked feet over the festive season and for some time thereafter?

In fact, not many people here have trees up yet, as I noticed as I walked home the other day (in the dry this time): only about one house in thirty. So we’re not really late – simply displaying normal British reserve and caution.

Unlike one of our janitors at college, who has been making a real effort to make his house look seasonal. I watched him the other day wobbling around on his roof (and he is a man built on generous lines) to install a blow-up Santa complete with sleigh and reindeer. Unfortunately by the time I took the photos Santa appeared to have been strafed by machine-gun fire from a low-flying aircraft – or at least, he was looking somewhat deflated. I decided to omit him from my (sorry) terrible photos.

As you can see, though, his brother seems to be lying unconscious in the garden – there he is, prone at the back. Still, you can’t say that the janitor hasn’t tried, can you? Even the path is festooned.

As yet we have no festoons, but our hall has now been repapered, Fifi! All systems go for decking it with boughs of holly.

Maybe tomorrow.