Edinburgh seems to have turned into an unofficial centre of the universe recently (or at least a popular stop-off point en route across the galaxy), meaning that I’ve been able to see a small-but-handy collection of my long-lost brethren without having to bother doing the travelling.
From Sheffield – Jono and his Bromheads
From Auckland – the actual legend himself, Patrick Dodson
From San Francisco – Dyball, the spy who photographed me
From Nova Scotia (via Helsingborgs) – cousin Julia-the-happy-tourist
And since we’ve had a nice collection of locals sleeping on our campbed too, our home has felt like the very vanguard of hospitality and international relations.
But now the Christmas dispersal is kicking in, and tomorrow The Wonderful Girl is leaving me in order to get reacquainted with her puppy (and family). I have been wondering what I will do on Saturday afternoon, after her flight, so that I don’t end up moping or watching tv – I think I should decide in advance rather than turn into Dusty Springfield.
And then, just another few days, and I’ll be in Devon, loving my lovely Devon family, going for long moonlit Devon walks, and eating large Devon desserts. Last Christmas was in NZ and I’m so looking forward to doing it all PROPERLY: with my delicious family; stoking the fire; doing all our traditions which we don’t realise are traditions …