Pink Skies.

My mornings have been blessed with the washing line acrobatics of my resident robin. My elevenses taken in front of twelve windows full of winter pink sky. All is well, but the slates fell off my roof and landed in my laundry room, my broadband connection is hopeless, and Christmas is but a sniff of sherry away…
And so yet again fate steps in and forces me out of my virtual world and into the one fragranced by mince pies. The universe says enough! Be in the moment. Laugh till you cry  at the pantomine and cry till you laugh at  the antics of your son dressed as a squirrel  in his school nativity play. Brush off the over anxious diagnosis of  dyspraxia by a nursery teacher clearly confusing chatty enthusiasm with the very modern need to label every child brimming with life as “special” and worry that you are going to arrive at Christmas morning having forgotten to buy something important for someone very special indeed. Attend yet another Hen night. Wrap the whole house up in brown paper and hope against all hope that in the blink of an eye you will be sitting at your Mum’s Christmas table watching your sister shove tangerines down her bra while your Auntie Barbie stashes all the Christmas Cracker gifts down hers, with the madness of commercial frenzy over and only the chaotic bliss of family to be enjoyed and loony amounts of chocolate pudding available to fill your thighs with.
All is well.  Nature is  rosy and strangely still.  Society a teeny bit bonkers. Light bulbs keep popping and my text messages arrive via Saturn three days after they should. My computer doesn’t work and my tv keeps freezing. So I’m hearing the world loud and clear. I’m hearing promises of tomorrows and the giggle of my happy little robin doing his trapeze act. I’m missing you all. Missing my lifeline to the world outside my berry wreathed door and enjoying the peace that is always my calamity driven life.
This weekend there will be a German Christmas market and mulled wine in gloved hands. Gift wrapping and chocolate coated flapjacks. Stocking fillers and  twinkly lights. A morning in the garden and the horror that is the possibility of snow or frosty car windows on the school run…
Enough I think. Enough for me at least. But back soon Sweeties, I promise.