Bah Humbug...

I haven't really taken much notice of the Christmas displays and 

 decorations in the shops until today.  I met with my good friend and  fellow southerner ( see Stroppy  southern strumpets),  and 'chief cheerer upper' Lynn, for an early lunch, some good chat, much supportive, 'Oh I know!'s  and 'No! Really!'s  from both of us. After a glass of house red, when we stumbled, quite literally in my case, across two aisle fulls (eye fulls) of glitz, glitter and  much festive ho ho ho  arrays of  festooned garlands, cards, wrap and anything and everything you don't want or need, to make your day special or not.

Indeed I bought some suitable stocking fillers, a couple of  'commercial' Advent calenders,  I just cannot find any 'real' ones anymore, and well hey they do have chocolate in them after all, and other gifts to add to the now overflowing area at the top of  our wardrobe. ( Yes I am almost done!)

We spent  a wonderfully relaxing afternoon actually, finishing it off with the

 'must do' trip around TK Maxx, followed by a warm the cockles latte. We parted and I walked home warmed  more by the friendship and sisterhood, from which I get to feel like me for a unpressurised, stress free couple of hours. 

The reason I call this post Bah humbug is, by the time I got my coat off and settled in on the couch to catch up with the family, I became acutely aware of an atmosphere brewing.  I ignored the warning of the snarling tummy and ploughed on, gave the kids the warm seasonal gloves l'd found them and told them I had bought their advents. The excitement was telling in their voices and as they began to chat, speculate and talk generally about the christmas period, as only teenagers can ... my daughter gets almost sick with excitement, my son too but less so he is more contained. 

A whiff of humbug pervaded the room and I don't mean the classic mint  flavour. 

Oh dear I thought no, don't start please.

 But Mr Grumpy began his furtive murmurings and said he could well do without it, we had done it to death and we should get far away or even better cancel it. I protested - unsurprisingly for those who know me, I never know when to shut up - All I want is to be in our home, with the family and dog and have a quiet relaxing day. But apparently I don't do relaxing on the day and everyone walks around on eggshells. I can smell the egg rot! I do Christmas well, Mr Grumpy doesn't. I wondered if this was for effect, as this comes every year just like Christmas, it happens. The kids love it and although a few weeks ago they said they would have a curry for Christmas day in deference to Mr G wanting a change, I thought to postpone the turkey to Boxing day, after all I've had my way for over 30 years, now they tell me as we get nearer they want the traditional day and so said all of us! (well three of us).

 Even though the kids are now 16 and 14 they ARE still kids.

Yes I agree its all commercial twaddle out there and uber overkill with parents apparently going seriously into hock for  zillions of gifts and ££ presents, that IS the wrong message. 

 We don't celebrate Thanksgiving in this country, though I have experienced it when I lived in the states and it is the spirit, the essence of  that time which I try and emulate. I have created traditions for our festive period. We read story books, light candles, share our thanks in our togetherness.

Apparently I have to drag My G into the Christmas period scratching and clawing all the way. I did suggest he went and stayed with his mother who does Garbo every year. Oh dear watch this space, I don't have a good feeling about this...

A contender for post of the day at Authorblog, thanks again for the mention David!

Memories are made of this...

I made the decision way before I had our kids, in fact in those early days it was actually 'if' not when we had kids, but that is a tale for another day. Our family life, will no be doubt rehashed, argued over, judged and dissected over the years, within the breadth of the kids' own families if and when they have them. I felt, and still do that I had a real responsibility to be the memory maker for them. I know of course that great memories cannot be forced or foisted upon people and that they are created by the by, in happenstance and just by our every day life which brings a myriad of 'memories' to be opened later.  My belief is that cherished memories are the lasting gifts we give to those we love almost unwittingly; to our children, our families and our friends. They are opened time and time again over the years and these keepsakes are little gifts to treasure. A small example was last week ... and I thank Suburbia for her post Small Sprog battles the credit crunch ... as it reminded me of one such memory, that I reopened and cherished again. A big warm feeling!

I was out walking with our dog last week and as the trees have already started to undress and the autumnal leaves were floating gently off the trees, I spied on the ground a cache of fallen horse chestnuts, most of them opened and empty

or crushed. But amongst them I found two that were still whole, uncracked and unopened. I put them in my jacket pocket, which excited Pippa as she thought I was rummaging for her dog biscuits! When I got home, I placed them on tissue on the mantelpiece. When my son and daughter arrived home much later from school and they had changed and snacked, I told the kids them I had a gift for them and it was on the mantelpiece. They looked very excited but when they looked I think they were trying to hide their disappointment from me, then came puzzlement, and then the realisation .... They both smiled and said, 'Aw Mum!! Conkers!?' Memory opened. 'Aw! you are such a softie!' They both gently cracked them open to find the 'gift' inside, and this is the where IF you are lucky enough to find a fallen horse chestnut that is unopened, you should wait and wait to open it, guessing what size, shape or quantity is inside, the insuing anticipation is weirdly unbearable, after all its only a bloody conker! My son found he had a substantial glossy warm brown nugget; my daughter was chuffed to find she had twins, two smaller ones, a matching pair! They both smiled, I think enriched by the memory and we all hugged. I know they think I'm soft, but it's these little things that I believe will stay with them and warm them in the years to come. Perhaps when least expected and I am long gone.

When the kids were younger and in their buggy/strollers, they both loved going by the 'conker park' screeching their joy and collecting the conkers, which they displayed on the their bedroom window ledges ... they would even take them to school  for a time to play conkers with their friends. That was until about 6 years or so ago, when the PC Police, made a fuss, the press got hold and schools banned them from the playground as they are now considered 'dangerous'. How bizarre in these days of our litigious society, the schools are frightened they will be sued!

For those of you that are puzzled by the term 'conkers' and some may be completely in the dark here, I will try and explain, but remember I'm a girlie so my description I'm sure will be lacking the testosterone charged version. One chooses a good sized and well shaped, (assorted shapes are preferred for certain tactics I recall) and a hole is made through the middle, or even off centre sometimes. I would use a metal cake skewer, but I'm sure there is varied means to drill through the middle of the conker. Then a piece of string, some wool, pink if a girl and the best of a shoe lace, the tapered end is good for threading a shoe lace strong and sturdy and male. Then we would wind the lace around the fisted fingers and flip the conker with some force against the opponents conker.  If you missed you lost your turn if you hit it firmly, you kept going until you missed or the opponents' conker was decimated.

Simple pleasures of the playground...

...remember hopscotch, jacks, french skipping?

 

A contender for post of the day at Authorblog, thanks again for the mention David!

The Art of receiving an email or letter!

Which is better to receive a letter or an email?

Have we lost the art of writing?

Are we wasting too much time online, writing unnecessary emails (not to mention blogs, I said not to mention...) and less time with pen and paper writing a meaningful letter?

I often hear older family members and friends talking about this generation losing the Art of the Letter writing. So when I opened a hand written small white envelope yesterday morning, (not a brown envelope or a generic 'to the householder missive' or one with cheap pen inside,) it made me think how I used to really enjoy receiving letters.

I used to go through my own little ritual when this rare commodity arrived on my doormat. This would involve placing the letter unopened on the kitchen table, then I would go about making a cuppa. Prolonging the time until I opened the little treasure, by boiling the kettle, heating the pot and then again for luck. Spending time ruminating about the length, the tone and the content of the letter. I would try and extend the time further until I got to the letter and bring time worn and by now reliable avoidance techniques into play (which I still employ when my open uni' essays are about due). After even more circuitous behaviour, I would sit with a tray of tea and biscuits (by which I probably mean chocolate) and enjoy the letter opening, the unfolding and the reading of! (I'm not supposed to end a sentence with of - am I?)

In recent years with the popularity of and how commonplace the internet now is in our lives, the receipt of letters has dwindled to but one from my mother. Then she went, at the age of 72 or so and connected her computer, that goes by the name of Paco, to the internet. There were promises banded about that we would still keep writing to each other, but it was in vain! Now we get snippy if we haven't exchanged emails every few days. In fact I'm wondering if texts are replacing our emails, but I dont think so, even my kids couldn't live with just texts.

I still do write thank you letters and the like by hand and l'm an obsessive list maker, (are there any women that aren't? ) I'll let you into a secret, when l get emails that look long and chatty from family and friends (or even my phone service provider) and if home alone, I print off the email and go through my little reading ritual, it is just as enjoyable.

Surely keeping in contact and the communication flowing is the important thing here. I think there is more contact not less, its just different.

LOL! Unfortunately the letter this morning, was a bill! Beware white handwritten envelopes, they may not be all that they seem!