Happy Christmas Sweeties!

I am having the most perfect Christmas Eve: a smorgasbord of friends and frankincense scented memories. Bing Crosby is reading stories in the living room and the bells on the wreath are jingle jangling in a jolly fashion as people come and go….
There is of course still  to be much done. Cinnamon rolls and ginger cakes to be baked for a sweet breakfast tomorrow and Finley’s presents to be wrapped and spirited away to Santa before he sets off on his travels. Though I have felt truly demented throughout the entirety of December, today that lovely sense of it’s here that Christmas Eve brings, has settled on my shoulders and I am wandering around more serene than I have felt in a long time: the promise of a New Year just around the corner and all the joy of watching an excited little boy try to fall asleep on the night before Christmas waiting for me this evening…
It isn’t perfect of course: I’m not really sure I want a chocolate box Christmas this year. Though I could do without the rather hilarious pimple that has sprung up unbidden on my forehead, I wouldn’t be without the mess in my bedroom, where one’s very own elves have set up a wrapping factory and see no chance of creating the calm cream bedroom I usually insist upon before nightfall. The house is less contrived than in previous years, relaxed and cosy  and I have avoided being the rather mental dictator of all things festive that I usually am by popping Kalms and supping mulled wine by intraveneous drip!
I feel good. I feel festive, tingly happy and a little giddy. I am looking forward to stuffing stockings and serving Bucks Fizz, to hearing Mark open the front door at seven o’clock tomorrow morning and announce Santa’s arrival, and to saying goodbye to the bestest Doctor Who ever tomorrow night with Finn, who has already pre-warned me of potential tears and possible hysteria. To all the rituals that shape Christmas in my house and yours. To sprouts and stuffing, Quality street and Miranda. I love Miranda. I feel like Miranda and all too often wish I could turn to the camera and apologise for the crazy antics of all those I love at Christmas time…
This then is Christmas. Joy and silly hats. The worry of not having bought something Finley has bet me one pound Father Christmas will DEFINITELY be bringing him! Books (lots of books please!!) and gin and lemonade. Silly festive aprons. Huge crackers. Half an hour stolen in my bedroom to just pause and breathe and absorb all the teeny tiny joys of the day…
This then is Christmas. May yours be utterly lovely. And fun and messy and silly and twinkly and glittery and wonderful.x