Like most people, we are experiencing a curtailed Christmas. Of the offspring wanting to come home, one is now in Tier 4 on the south coast, and another is languishing in self-isolation on the other side of town after his app pinged, even though he only had Covid-19 last month. Which leaves just one for dinner.
Friday, 25 December 2020
Deck the Halls with Border Collie
And then of course Ted died this year. He was always at the heart of our Christmas, and we're missing him badly too.
We're not so sure her Die Hard loyalites are as they should be, mind.
Owing to the propensity of puppies to chew, we have necessarily done a lot less decorationing this year, and what there is is mostly out of reach. And involves lights because ...
... 2020 has been a dark year. I don't think we'll ever take for granted being able to hug our friends, hold our writing groups, go to poetry readings, and take a trip to the sea or Dartmoor, again.
Even if things had been different and better and normal, I think I'd have noticed this morning's suggestively-placed lit window and coloured vapour trail at sunrise. But I might not have been as touched by it.