With nativities to attend, homemade gifts to attempt and a Christmas feast to prepare, Margot has got her work cut out for her this Yuletide
How is it possible that it is December already? The year has raced past and we are fast approaching our second festive period in the countryside. Now look here Christmas, some of us are just not prepared enough for your incessant sleigh bell ringing, frantic present buying, descending of family and marathon feasting just yet. Nor are we feeling festive enough to hear Noddy Holder with his fiendishly loud “It’s Chrrisstmmaas!” so please Christmas spirit, would you mind awfully trying to keep a lid on things for the time being?
Somehow the festive season has sneakily sidled up on me whilst I was still enjoying the first fire of the autumn and, without turning into one of those Grumpy Women often featured on Boxing Day telly late into the evening, I wonder how I will ever get organised in time for Christmas Eve! I’m sure I can’t be the only one making a special wish that every present will be bought, beautifully wrapped and sitting under the tree without having to lift a finger. Poppy and Primrose will be lucky to get an orange in their stockings at this rate! Not to mention Christmas lunch….I must start channelling my inner ‘Nigella’ before we end up feasting on fish fingers and chocolate oranges for pud.
Now that Poppy is at nursery and Primrose in her second year at school, Jerry and I are gearing ourselves up for the 100 metre dash to the front row for their nativity plays. Dear Reader, I have never seen so many pointy elbows as everyone tries to bag the best seats in the house. Anyone would think that we all had tickets for the Royal Opera House! Inevitably, I shall be hiding behind my hands for Poppy’s debut nativity, praying she doesn’t unleash her penchant for always having to have the last word. Jerry and I know all too well that she has form in the amateur dramatics’ stakes. Can’t think who she gets that from, dear Reader…At last year’s village carol service, Poppy wasn’t too keen on the meaningful hush between readings and felt the need to yell at the top of her voice “I don’t love you anymore Mummy” when I ran out of the sweets I was using to bribe her silence. Everyone in the village is still talking about it, a year on!
No doubt I shall throw myself into the Christmas frenzy as soon as Jerry gets the decorations down from the attic, and before long I’ll have come up with some bonkers notion that I can rustle up hundreds of homemade gifts in time for the big day. Round about May, Jerry unearthed some cut-out pieces of felt that were supposed to become stockings last year. Better distract him before he finds the numerous jars of chutney I thought I could hand round the family this year.
With the twelve days of Christmas already in sight there’ll be the village drinks party to get me in a festive mood, the moonlit walk to Midnight Mass to look forward to and the prospect of the jolly white-bearded chap in a red suit bringing gifts. Primrose has said that she’s already put in a good word for me with Father Christmas and told him what I’d really like. “Oh yes, what’s that?” I ask, a weekend away, a new pair of sparkly shoes…? “No”, she replies. “I’ve told him what you really need is a new dishwasher.” Oh dear, I wonder if she’s been talking to Jerry…Happy Christmas dear Reader!
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