The turning of the year

It transpires that when the family isn't here... nothing happens. Well, Christmas happened, and that was perfectly pleasant even with just Mr Life and me - or it was for most of the day. By the evening I was feeling rather unwell and spent the next day intermittently throwing up. I can't imagine that it was anything I ate - we had the same, except that when he had turkey and the trimmings, I had marinated tofu and a few of the previous day's baked beans. Yes, fine dining. I was just cooking the vegetables in the final run-up to dishing up his meal when it occurred to me that I hadn't done anything for myself, so I looked in the freezer and there were the marinated tofu pieces, which I microwaved with the beans. Should you ever come to a meal, please be assured that I'll try harder for you.  I'm not very interested in food; I mean, I quite like eating (as you can see when you look at me, alas) but never feel it a subject worth giving much thought to when it comes to my own food. People often ask vegetarians what they eat and I try to think of an interesting answer, when the truth is often an omelette. And lots of vegetables.

So possibly someone had sneezed on the tofu pieces in the factory - I threw out the rest of the packet, just in case - but I suspect it was just a bug, which I'm happy to say I didn't pass on to the old chap. Or not yet... .

We blame this for what happened last night. I sat down at the computer about 9.30 pm to write a letter to my aunt, glanced at the date on the screen and realised that it was our wedding anniversary. Oops. Forty-four years married and we both forgot (for the first time ever, I'd like to point out). To do him justice, Mr L was able to produce both a previously-written card and a wrapped little gift, whereas I ... um... I did look at cards a few weeks ago and none of them seemed right. Plenty of time, I thought. Sorry dear!

So we walked up town today and had a coffee to celebrate. He even had a brownie but I'm still feeling very slightly delicate.

We watched the passing throng, many of them wheeling suitcases, and wondered again why people come here in December. I mean, it was a nice day, if a trifle chilly. But June, people! Long, long days! The chance to take your jacket off! The opportunity to let the warm breeze riffle your hair, the sun kiss your upturned, unfrozen face! Just saying.

I'm writing to my aunt a lot because, sad to say, someone knocked her over with their shopping trolley in the supermarket at the end of November and broke her hip. This is the 93-year-old (or, she will be on January 1) who lives in Norfolk and who was up till that point in very good nick. Now, alas, though she's had a partial hip replacement, she can walk only a few steps, with considerable pain, and the painkillers are making her sick so that she's not keeping food down. We went to see her while we were at Daughter 2's before Christmas but Norfolk is a long way from Edinburgh. Fortunately my niece and my brother and sister-in-law are much nearer, and visit, and she has a very good friend who visits her more or less daily. But still, it's not at all good.

I've been uncheering myself up by going through my millions of photos and deleting many of them. Why did I take so many pictures of our beloved cats, most of them very similar? I've kept quite a few nice ones but no one needs hundreds of identical photos of much-mourned furry friends who died very young of genetic lung disease. Nor so many of my garden, which is still there, outside the house, should I need to look at it - though it's also somewhat depressing to see plants which mysteriously disappeared some years ago. And then there are pictures of my parents... can't delete any of them.

And I've still some years to go before I reach the birth of the first of the grandchildren, where I'll again find lots of more or less identical photos. However, I don't expect to find that so dejecting - just difficult to choose between them. So that'll be all right.

Anyway, I've also started cutting out a quilt for Biggest Granddaughter, which is more cheerful, isn't it? Lots of happy timewasting lies ahead of me while I do that. And we've passed the shortest day, so summer is on its way here - sorry, Australia and New Zealand. And the Edinburgh grandchildren come home on Saturday, hurray hurray, bringing their other, delightful, grandparents with them. So if we don't meet again this year, O bloggy friends, I hope you have a lovely New Year celebration and a wonderful 2018.