Not such a great Christmas.
I think this has been the worst Christmas ever for me. My trials have been pretty modest, so I guess I'm lucky that I've good Christmases right up till today.
The worst thing was that C spent most of the day sitting under his own personal thundercloud at the end of the sofa; I have no idea what was the matter and apparently neither does he.........sigh! I can't tell you what a horrible effect it had on me - I haven't felt so demoralised and depressed for a very long time.
I had already spent most of a sleepless night trying unsuccessfully to raise some Christmas Spirit in myself. I didn't realise how lucky I was all those years when the joy of Christmas was right there in my heart. I've no idea what has caused its failure this year; it's not that I don't believe, because I do, it just refused to come to me. I believe some poor souls are inflicted with this "dryness" all their lives, even though they stay faithful, so I must be grateful for all the very happy and holy Christmases I have had.
My state of mind wasn't improved by my dropping a jugful of precious beef gravy all over the kitchen floor, followed later, by the lovely home-made Christmas pudding slipping out of it's string to crash on the floor with thousands of shards of Pyrex embedded in it. Fortunately I have another one, but we didn't actually eat it, because I had forgotten to make the brandy butter. We wouldn't have had room for pudding anyway after Charles' excellent game stew, we only just managed small portions of lemon mousse.
John was his ever-cheerful self, thank God and didn't let C's attack of the miseries affect him; I tried not to let it affect me, but I'm afraid it did.
C cheered up after dinner and insisted I sat with him watching TV and DVDs, when all I wanted to do was go to bed.
I'm utterly shattered now.
The worst thing was that C spent most of the day sitting under his own personal thundercloud at the end of the sofa; I have no idea what was the matter and apparently neither does he.........sigh! I can't tell you what a horrible effect it had on me - I haven't felt so demoralised and depressed for a very long time.
I had already spent most of a sleepless night trying unsuccessfully to raise some Christmas Spirit in myself. I didn't realise how lucky I was all those years when the joy of Christmas was right there in my heart. I've no idea what has caused its failure this year; it's not that I don't believe, because I do, it just refused to come to me. I believe some poor souls are inflicted with this "dryness" all their lives, even though they stay faithful, so I must be grateful for all the very happy and holy Christmases I have had.
My state of mind wasn't improved by my dropping a jugful of precious beef gravy all over the kitchen floor, followed later, by the lovely home-made Christmas pudding slipping out of it's string to crash on the floor with thousands of shards of Pyrex embedded in it. Fortunately I have another one, but we didn't actually eat it, because I had forgotten to make the brandy butter. We wouldn't have had room for pudding anyway after Charles' excellent game stew, we only just managed small portions of lemon mousse.
John was his ever-cheerful self, thank God and didn't let C's attack of the miseries affect him; I tried not to let it affect me, but I'm afraid it did.
C cheered up after dinner and insisted I sat with him watching TV and DVDs, when all I wanted to do was go to bed.
I'm utterly shattered now.