
On the sofa. I spent a lot of last year on the sofa, and 2023 continued the trend. Lately I’ve been making sure to get out of the house at least once a day, but I always end up back here. It’s a good sofa.
Stories that make sense

On the sofa. I spent a lot of last year on the sofa, and 2023 continued the trend. Lately I’ve been making sure to get out of the house at least once a day, but I always end up back here. It’s a good sofa.

Hygge is one of those words that sets my teeth on edge (and do you know how hard it is to find an NHS dentist these days? I have failed to find a replacement for mine. No wonder I’m grumpy today). It’s not that I object to loan words. It’s that it was everywhere a few years ago, and, more to the point, it was everywhere trying to sell me stuff, and fads have always got my back up (fortunately I am not currently having to seek any treatment for my back).
My understanding, however, is that it’s generally taken to mean something like ‘being cosy indoors while it’s miserable outdoors’, which I am all for. So here’s what’s going on on my sofa.

Not sure if this is the favourite, but it’s certainly a favourite. That’s my youngest brother putting out a hand to hold the ship on which my oldest brother and family are off on honeymoon, and my mother waving. A gorgeous evening in May, a view that’s always restorative, and the honeysuckle running riot. I think there was a cat twirling around my feet, too.

This was meant to be the Christmas newsletter but the printer decided that what I really wanted was instructions for the breast pump. We got there eventually.
I always keep the Christmas letter to one side of A4. This year it’s one side of A5: our very big news meant that there wasn’t much space in the last two quarters for much else. Some people get very snobby about them, but I think they’re as good a way as any as keeping loved ones updated.
I think maybe you’re all meant to know each other’s news already? It doesn’t work that way in my immediate family. My father, who spent most of his evenings on the phone to various friends and relations, was a distinct outlier; the rest of us are dreadful at it. Then there’s the point that a typed letter looks superficial and impersonal. Yes, but definitely better than nothing. Certainly last year, when I was pregnant, not telling anyone about it quite yet, and suffering first trimester exhaustion the like of which I’d never imagined, I was in no mood to write out fifty times by hand that my father had died and that I’d had a bout of COVID that it had taken me two months to get over.
Or are you meant to assume that people don’t care about your news, on the grounds that you don’t care about theirs? But I do care. I always enjoy reading other people’s letters, regardless of whether I was present at every event they report on or haven’t seen them for years.
Anyway, friends who do them, keep writing them; I’ll keep reading them; and I’ll get mine sent out as soon as I have some time to write some cards. Which might be this month. You never know.

Beginning with this slightly wonky Advent candle, which I need to jam more firmly into its bottle. I’m not sure that I’ll share pictures for all the prompts (I’m generally not sharing baby pictures publicly, for a start), but we’ll see how we go. It’ll be interesting to see how the prompts do or don’t match up with the names of Jesus on the candle, and the windows in the calendar, and the poems in the book (any of which I may drop behind on any day, of course). Anyway, I have to burn my way through this star to get the whole thing started.

Yesterday’s chilli, together with the remains of yesterday’s vegetable goulash, and a little more paprika. Five minutes in the pressure cooker, and a blast with the blender. Not bad at all.

I had a morcilla (Spanish black pudding) left over from a dish I cooked at the weekend, so I skinned it and bashed it around in a saucepan over a medium heat until it broke up. I added a chopped onion and let it fry in the fat a while, then added three tins:
And some smoked paprika and some chilli flakes, and let it all simmer together while I crisped up a microwaved jacket potato in the oven.
That was yesterday. Today I added red wine and more chilli flakes, and served it with the end of a sour cream and chive dip. Even better.

Another take on the combination of silver birch tree and golden light – real this time. It wasn’t like this yesterday, I’ll tell you that much.

When I was little, the Christmas tree went up on Christmas Eve. It might have been acquired a few days earlier, probably from the chap over the road who grew them in his garden, and it might conceivably have come into the house then, but the decorations would go on during the Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College, Cambridge, at 3pm on Christmas Eve. Beginning, of course, with the lights.
These days I am a little less strict, though I enjoy Advent so much that I do tend to keep Christmas pushed back to the back half of December. But I shan’t be fighting the lights going up, because there’s a small person in the house who is absolutely fascinated by them. This afternoon we went and looked at the Christmas tree in the market square, and then visited a coffee shop with an excellent array of little white lights. Strict I may be, but I’m not going to begrudge anyone else their cheerful twinkly lights. Particularly this year.

Here’s one of this year’s Christmas decorations. They’re a bit experimental: I picked up a box of decanterless stoppers in a charity shop and have been caging them in beaded wire crochet. The solid ones are going to be a bit heavy for trees, but should be just about okay hung close to the trunk. I’m going to hang a big bead from the bottom.
I’m finding that I’m not terribly interested in writing at the moment, and I’m very much enjoying making things in three dimensions instead. Having finished my fishpond skirt, I’ve moved on to these beaded things and am thinking too about picking up my knitting needles again, and finally getting around to trying out my new big darning loom, and I’d like to do some patchwork too… Meanwhile, writing… meh, as they used to say on the internet. I expect I’ll get caught up by it again sooner or later, but for the moment it seems to belong to another life.