We left all the wrapping paper lying about for a couple of days to make it look as if we still had children, but now it's tidied away, and the presents too, pretty much, and there's only the tree and the hangovers to remind us that Christmas was here. The tree, decorated by our nieces who visited the week before Christmas, is glowing gently in the corner now—it's an artificial one, about 20 years old now, and really on its last legs; it sheds worse than a real one. But it still looks purty strung with lights and beads and all those red, white and gold decorations.
We went around the corner for Boxing Day drinks with Judy and Robin
. As a result of some very nice gin and tonics, the novel I'm supposed to finish in the next 5 days looks as if it's falling apart in my hands today. I know it's really not, but it's still a bit frightening. Best to not try and solve anything big, just do some close work on a part of it that I'm okay with.
Thank you, whoever is responsible for this cool, grey, rainy weather.