All sewing and kitting has remained untouched for the last 10 days, until the family exodus a couple of days ago. After a day of washing bedlinen and towels and returning things like the sellotape, the guillotine, the industrial hole punch and the little wooden Noah’s Ark to their customary places, I picked up a jumper and today set about a bit of mending. No, I never did finish the grandchild’s jumper. After daughter No 2’s knitting needle was broken by an excited 2 year old, I decided now was not the time to bring out more knitting, let alone the sort that requires concentration and counting.
Foraging and fuelling went well with some of the household taking on the cooking of major parts of meals while others moved into the kitchen and set about washing the dishes. One of the church wardens and his wife gave us a fine turkey for Christmas, helpfully delivered on Christmas Eve, causing me to remember how in London my first husband used to join the queue at Macken’s, the butchers on Turnham Green Terrace at 6am on Christmas Eve to pick up the bird ordered weeks in advance and then stagger home along Chiswick High Road with its vastness like some Dickensian character, delighted with his bounty.
Madonna and Child (hand embroidered for 2013 Christmas card by Mary Addison)
Ipsden’s secret Santa did not disappoint as once again there was a little gift on the doorstep on Christmas morning. Every year all houses on our bit of road are left a little present and these must have started about the time we came as I have been accused of being the night time deliverer. You would think that after 8 years someone might have noticed something – but no and perhaps we all assiduously don’t look as there’s something marvellous and definitively Christmasy about a secret giver.
Anyway, I hope you’ll forgive me if I leave you with my Christmas card of 2 years ago until I get more organised and find the time to get on with a number of half finished projects.
