Noel 2014. New Year 2015.

Noel. Brittany. 2014.

My 21st Christmas in a foreign land. Everyone spent here in all of those 21 years. And always alone. This doesn’t bother me, and never has. I have learned the value of my own company.

I do the time honoured things that I have always done. I buy far too much food, looking for bargains in the weeks before. But that in itself is fun.
I make a Christmas Cake, which is just about the only cake I have ever had any success with. I make Mincemeat for Pies. I knock up my own Stuffing, which never tastes the same on any two occasions. And then I get down to it on Christmas Eve.

I mock up a Christmas Tree from local vegetation. Fir Branches normally, but the Fir Wood across the road has now been felled. So this year I have taken a lesson from Twig Trees, and cut some Quince Twigs which looks fine, littered with my now ancient decorations.

My lovely Camillia is in full bloom. Bright pink double blooms that brighten the garden. This Camillia is actually older than me, and serves so well as cut blooms.

The vegetables are all in the freezer, blanched and ready to go. All bought a teensy bit past their Sell By Date, but for a fraction of the price. I will as usual, be able to feed an army.
No army will arrive, but that doesn’t matter. They are all here in spirit, albeit doing their own thing.

I gave them all the only real thing that I could. A belief that their mother is always alright.

She isn’t always,, but that is another story. And not a story that I am ever going to tell . Sometimes it is what you don’t say that matters the most.

I am so very proud of them all. And they aren’t half bad looking either. Not that this has anything to do with anything.

Christmas Day. In the Year of Our Lord 2014.

My dinner is cooking and the fire is roaring up my ancient chimney. That chimney was old when I was young.

When I was eighteen, it never entered my mind that I would see The 21st Century, but I have now, and for fourteen years. All good years in their own way.
Children grown and gone, and now looking to their own old age, hopeful with more provisions put in place than I paid attention to.
But I don’t mind being a bit poor. It stretches my mind to innovation and survival. How can I do this or that with limited resources?
My life has always been about survival. It’s an inborn state of mind for me. I am a Celt after all and everything.
January 2015

And another year to look forward to. I go to sleep every night looking forward to another day, and now another year. One tends not to notice such optimism. It was quite a surprise to me when I suddenly realised that this is what I have done for all of my life.
I am a born optimist, and thank heaven for that.

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One Response to “Noel 2014. New Year 2015.”

  1. The Last Furlong Says:

    Strangely, there are many many people of our age who prefer being alone at this “festive” time. All the mad happiness and buy buy buy mentality of the world seems pointless and fake. The best New year we ever had was lying on our backs on a friend’s front lawn in a remote mountain area, and just watching the sky – in SILENCE! We even saw shooting stars. It was profound. Loved this post, thanks.

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