On the Brink

It feels like the very last day of the year though it's a few days away yet: very cold, utterly still, clear skies and bright sunshine climaxing in a sizzling sunset, the fourth in a row. There's a liminal feel to the atmosphere, as if something has not only ended but another thing is about to start. Ominous is too strong a word to use; anticipatory is closer. Everything is hushed outside, expectant. It's all too easy to believe that darkness will bring a witching hour when hidden things appear and familiar objects vanish. I won't be peeking out from behind a curtain, but safe indoors with the sparking logs and shooting flames of the woodburner.

Christmas is over for another year, and this one was a peach, a plum, the icing on the cake. Try as you might you can't avoid the fevered consumerism that drives us all to buy just one more perfect thing to make a loved one smile with pleasure. It's all about spoiling each other at this one time of the year, one of the assembled crew noted, and so it is, and it's OK. Once the packaging, wrapping paper and cardboard boxes had been thrown out it didn't look so OTT. The cat who used to pounce on the detritus and charge around the room inside it was sentimentally remembered, her many atrocious faults glossed over fondly.

Presents to be opened

Drinks Party Xmas Eve

Lovely friends

Traditional Xmas Morning Brunch

With Olivia off on a Xmas Walk

Laings and Murphy with Bug Tattoos

 The Room With No Name now has a seasonal moniker which may or may not survive. It was the perfect spot for the Christmas tree, and christened accordingly. Indeed the biggest surprise was that the whole house came into its own, with its odd layout and many rooms. All five of us were bedded down in our own or shared luxurious spaces according to our current relationship status, and nobody complained that they could never get into the bathroom. The 16 bottles of wine and champagne might have helped - I just counted the empties lined up outside the back door. They say that grown-up children can't avoid reverting to their adolescent selves when housed under the parental roof at this time of the year, their adult personas stripped from them at the gate against their will. What I noticed, contrarily, was how easily and willingly I reverted to 'Mum', listening out for calls for help with shoelaces and plaits, forgetting that nearly two decades have passed since they left home and rejoicing in their animated presence over six days.

The Christmas Tree Room

John, watched by Olivia

Kitty and Tricia

Olivia pleased with John's present

Christmas lunch

Kitty (old grey-haired hag with exhausted "cooking Xmas meal" face cropped out of picture)

Table Decoration

The house is empty of visitors now, the washing machine on its third of probably five cycles, white bedding mounting up in the ironing basket. The turkey has been stripped, its carcass binned; the cake distributed for taking home; the wine rack completely bare; the sofa from the summer house that ensured comfy seating for all now back in its place; the festive tablecloth is packed away for another year. I'm not parting with the tree yet, nor the Swedish Christmas lights in the four front windows. And I've noticed chocolates here and there, some in the fridge, others in the larder. The Stilton is lingering too, and so is the Christmas pudding and a smidgeon of brandy butter. The Japanese table decoration garnered from the front garden is still beautiful. Whatever the brink, whatever awaits on the other side, I'll have treats to keep me company on my onwards journey, sweet pennies for my mouth and treasures in the form of memories in my head as I approach the next stage, hopefully not the Stygian one yet.