Yet another day in paradise

So that was winter was it? Just as we were looking forward to the possibility of a white Christmas the cold snap snapped and guess what? It's raining again. I had a bad feeling about this day. It started last night: I'd just made a large cheese and onion sandwich to enjoy whilst watching the X Factor final when I suddenly remembered that I was having my bloods done this morning and was supposed to be fasting. Sod it. Couldn't even have a paltry glass of water.

Duly arrived at the surgery to be met by the happiest nurse in the world. 'Have you got a form?' No. 'Haven't you seen the doctor?' No...they told me it wasn't necessary. 'What do you want your bloods done for?' Because they haven't been done for six months. 'Have you fasted?' Who uses that language in 2009? Begrudgingly, she took a sample. Merry Christmas to you too. Onwards to work which is about as far as it's possible to be in any direction given that it and the surgery are separated by the second largest natural harbour in the world. And on to the first meeting with the new boss which was as appalling as it could've been.

Eventually homewards via the train station to collect Jack who appears to have taken nine hours to get here from the land of the sheep. Well it would if you come by the scenic route i.e. car to Reading, train to Southampton and another train to Dorset. No wonder he was complaining of travel sickness. Then had to break the news that I was going out on his first night home: terrible mother guilt syndrome.

A cup of tea, a quick bath and back out into the wet night for the Speakeasy Christmas readings. We were supposed to take food to contribute to a mixed buffet. Being as organised as ever, I stole a packet of crisps from the Christmas supplies thinking they would at least make a change from the three zillion mince pies that were likely to be on offer. Wrong again: everyone must have thought that everyone else would bring mince pies so we were hard pressed to locate one. Plenty of Scotch eggs though. And plenty of wonderful readings. It was one of those events that one approaches with some resignation, then really enjoys. Barely anyone had written their own pieces, choosing instead to bring out all the old favourites: Elliot's Journey of the Magi, which I had thought about taking was performed much better than I could have managed by the delightful Enid. I read from my other essential seasonal text, Dylan Thomas' Memories of Christmas. Judith gave us Betjeman's Christmas and Sue chose The Night Before Christmas. We had Hardy's Oxen....we are big Hardy fans: it's compulsory if you're a Dorset based literary group. And Corsley's Innocents. And Harding's Christmas 1914. And many more. It was splendid. My faith is restored. I took home a goodie bag for Jack: 2 pieces of Stollen and some white chocolate fingers. That'll make up for it. He'd gone out!