Your Best Gift

My light box message this morning!

As a kid, gifts mean more than anything else in the world.
As a adult other things seem to matter more.
Blogger Rachel's reunion with Peter on Christmas Day was sweeter than the ending of Shiela Burnfords's The Incredible Journey and her joyful post, I know has made many of our Christmases just that little bit nicer, especially given the painful and at times arduous journey she made after he originally left.
The Weaver, in her indomitable let's get on with things style has faced her own demons this year and still manages to face the world with a ukulele and a smile and Thomas is still soldiering  on despite  Brexit and slump in European candlestick sales.
The older I get, the more importance I hold in health. In making the effort and in enjoying things.
When Some people take joy out of a tv the size of a barn door or a car that is able to talk to you and park itself...I quite pride myself in getting giddy as a kipper over my new vinyl floor in the kitchen .
Horses for courses.
Christmas Day was sweet because the family got together without agenda. It was a day when my twin sister merrily got drunk during charades. When my older sister manfully battled with dishing out the starters as the entire male population made balloon animals and when the Prof delighted in wearing his gold lame underpants in public! 
That's what is important.
Enjoying the small stuff.....

So as I play with my new light box message board! I have to ask what's your best gift this year?
What are you thankful for? What's made you smile, proud or just happy?
It has to be positive......
I want things to be positive today
I'd be interested to know! 

Gold Lamé Underpants

One of the gifts my sister bought The Prof and I were a pair of gold ( for him) and silver ( for me) novelty underpants which went down a bit of a storm.
I was reminded of a long distant Christmas from childhood when my father ran into a crowded room in his vest and y fronts and fell into the Christmas tree with an inebriated in law.
That was in the 1970s and public underwear wearing was deemed hilarious way back then.
We seem much more sophisticated now

The Prof is cooking today in his Christmas pyjamas !
He is presently cooking a ham and is preparing a mountain of bubble and squeak.
I am sat in the living room armchair, still a bit washed out but grateful that my now chest infection is becoming more mobile. I sound like a pan of scouse which is bubbling away on the stove top.
Yes I'm painting a rather attractive picture of myself rant I ? .....lovely!

I better get up....as the dogs need feeding,
I've been reminded as I've just seen Winnie eat a very small hand knitted Christmas pudding tree decoration.
Hey ho

We were fed and watered wonderfully at my sister's home yesterday so today's its 1970s Boxing day fare with a retro trifle !

Darlings.......

We went to the Church service last night and despite man flu the vicar gave one of his best Christmas sermons.
He talking about the comfort of the familiar , just like the " Baby Jesus" moment I mentioned in yesterday's post....and although he is quite used to me being rather irreverent , I hope he understood just how genuiningly moving such little moments are when they become part of your own tradition.
Gaynor The mad organist , was dressed in her best tartan suit and I told her she looked like a Bay City Roller fan . She looked stressed !....organisists , mad or otherwise, are greatly sought after at this time of year.
This morning the Prof and I swapped gifts as Winnie searched the wrapping paper debris we are meeting up with my family later...and I'll post some photos of us all..even if you don't want to see them
Have a nice day my people x

Bring On The Baby Jesus

Virus' are bad bastards.
Mine has morphed from being hot, fevered and ache based
To explosive cough and snot based.
I'm also at the stage where pent up coughs force out nuclear speed farts at the same time.
Much to the chagrin of the Prof who shakes his head sadly when I let another one fly across the kitchen.
Hey ho.... not to be downhearted !

A few chores today, which is nice. Last minute Christmas card deliveries need to be done
I'm making parmesan biscuits this afternoon followed by the obligatory sherry trifle.
and we are going to Church later to hear the vicar utter those traditional  Christmas service words as the nativity scene is completed with the arrival of one last tiny figurine
" Mrs Davies .......bring on the baby Jesus!" 

Have a peaceful and happy Christmas Eve, wherever you are

Help

Although I'm full of aches and pains , I am feeling a bit better today
I need a bit of help from blogland as I have been given the job of organising some sort of quiz/ game for the family to play on Christmas Day.
Please give me some of your ideas.

Christmas 2002

Our old dining room in Sheffield

This time last year I posted my most popular post
http://disasterfilm.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/christmas-1985.html
Something resonated with Going Gently readers ( or google perhaps) and I had 2500 unique visits to this a sad tale of a lonely psychiatric patient at Christmas 1985
I can't match that story , even so  believe me when I say I've had some equally sad and moving experiences when I was nursing over the Yuletide season
So tonight I will share with you my best Christmas memory
It was a simple few moments on Christmas Morning back in 2002
A simple few moments I shall always remember
I had Christmas Off ( a bloody rarity ) with The Prof and after a posh breakfast  and gift swapping we were sat in our dining room on a tiny sofa in the window warmed with weak morning sun. The Prof gave me a hug of thanks for his very expensive gift ( not!)  when our dogs Finlay ( a Welsh terrier very much like William) and Maddie- a bad tempered Scottie both dived on top  of us not wanting to be left out of the celebrations and for that moment as dogs , husband to be and I hugged in one big fat mess,  I realised that  I was truly loved ........and truly home . 

Powerful Women

I'm still feeling like shit and settled down for another sleepless night coughing on the sofa with my iPlayer, Mary and Winnie last night
I ended up watching an episode of Feud to pass the time.
"A Powerful story of powerful women "
On reflection I realised that my life has always been filled with powerful interesting women
My Maternal Grandmother and Mother were powerhouses in so many different days, one positively and one less so
My sisters ( and sister in law ) have always provided my life with a backdrop of never ending support
And my friends Nu, and Jane have always given me the humour and sparkle I've always needed .
Add to the mix sparking nieces,ballsy bloggers, old Welsh ladies, Sheffield, Derbyshire and Denbighshire nurses,aunts,  a psychologist with balls, village schoolgirls with attitude, and an eternally cheerful mother in law and you will agree I have been rather blessed by everything feminine

Who have you been moulded by? 

Speckled Bread

Mary and I spent a rather sleepless night on the couch last night.
No, it wasn't a result of the obligatory Christmas Row ,
I was full of a cough and a heavy cold and Mary has an ear infection and so in order to allow The Prof some sort of rest from the coughing and itching before his work today, I banished both of us to the couch.
At 5.00 am, after the log burner had died down, Winnie tried to join us in an effort to keep warm.
I feel like a the new parent of a colicky baby this afternoon. Tired and headachy.

I have left the house only once to walk the dogs ( with Albert in tow) and so missed animal helper Pat when she called around with a Christmas gift of homemade bara brith.
I wasn't out long as I went in the mood Albert's insistence in walking with us even on the main road,
That cat will get himself killed one day
I found the loaf tied to the back door handle ( Aunty Glad style) when we got home.

Now for those that down know Bara Brith is a Welsh fruit bread usually made without yeast. It is often flavoured with tea and is eaten thinly sliced and Covered in butter.
It is delicious and incredibly moreish

In Welsh bara means bread and brith means speckled.
The "Speckled" title refers to dense amounts of fruit in the recipe.

Stock photo bara brith

I'll leave you with some nativity scenes, I'm off for a lemsip