This time of year is the most demented of all and I have been full of Christmas spirit for the most ridiculous amount of time already, and have been having to fuel it with little more than the odd mince pie and a lot of sniffing of tangerines while waiting for the actual day to dawn.
I am not sure what it is about this Christmas that has got me so excited, though there are some vital components, most central of which is the new sofa from DFS which arrived yesterday and upon which I am nestling to write. I like to think that, thanks to the sleekness of the Loft sofa, combined with glamorous red and white striped cushions from Cabbages and Roses, the drawing room of our small 1930s house is now a hymn to gracious living. It truly would be had the NOTORIOUS P U G not just charged in like a miniature bull running in the streets of Pamplona and launched himself and his mud ridden paws all over the pale beauty of the Loft.
The Loft was so hard won. It took seven months of negotiating with my very uninterested boyfriend to achieve one day of sofa shopping during which his attention faltered several times. However, his input was vital, as left to my own devices I think I might have been trampled by the herds of brown and black leather furniture we saw, grouped like rhinos or bison on the veldt in the vast sofa hangars that exist on the edge of Norwich. I began to be hypnotized when I sat on one, pressed a button and began to vibrate from the base of my spine. Sofas are not just sofas anymore, they are experiences. The Loft is an experience, but in a good way.
Another vital component of this Christmas, deeply unfashionable in these times of recession, is the not so secret list of desires. I have a few I don't mind sharing - a pair of navy blue wellies, a Smythson bjoux Soho Diary in malacite green, a bath hat, a Duchy of Cornwall Hamper, some mascara and a teapot. I have broadcast the list among my loved ones, but the response has been lack lustre to say the least. According to my daughter I am not getting any of them, I will be having a surprise treat instead. I think it might be a double bluff. So politically correct has life become that I have an impulse to apologize for wanting these things. I can't work out a way to pretend they are for the greater good, and it seems that the whole point of being grown up these days is to be alert to the greater good. To that end, I would also like a bee hive and some bees.
Making the Christmas cake was another crucial moment to enhance the Christmas dream. We did it on what I think is called Stirring Sunday, but I may have made that up. Anyway, I cross pollinated the recipe books and have made a hybrid cake from the Rose Bakery Cook book and Leith's Cookery Bible. I forgot to put any brazil nuts in, but we did add figs, dates and wishes from everyone in the house that day. There were eight of us, so a lot is riding on this cake. It is lurking now in a beautiful tin made by Matthew Rice, and becoming ever more sozzled as I spike it with marsala every few days.
I have received almost no Christmas cards this year, but I am trying to pretend that it is not my unpopularity that has caused this, but more that my friends are very eco-friendly and many of them believe the Christmas card is a toxic item almost akin to a tiny hand grenade nowadays. I do not agree, I adore the ones I have received, and one of my New Year's resolutions is going to be making my own for next year. Annoyingly, I know my children will refuse to cooperate and let me photograph them in a gorgeous family bundle of joy, but as they are 21, 19 and 12 I have plenty of old photographs of them I can morph together to create my own neo - Nativity scene. I am not sure how many people will enjoy receiving cut out pictures of long ago babies, but the joy for me in giving will be huge.
It will be some fine work avoidance for next year. Happy Christmas to every one and a peaceful New Year.
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