Seventy sleeps to Christmas

Yesterday I made a start on the Christmas puddings.  There is something deeply smug about making the pud in October.   I can almost feel like a woman who has her life together.   Almost.

My bungalow is about forty years old but when making Christmas pudding I can feel like a Victorian cook.  Weighing a huge selection of dried fruits into a bowl, stirring with a huge spoon, adding booze, spices, suet, and all the other bits and pieces, makes me feel as though I’m in the kitchen at Downton Abbey.

I rather like the idea of making a wish while stirring. Mine would probably be for a peaceful Christmas, a tidy house and the ability to remember where I have put things.  

There is also something rather satisfying about preparing food weeks before it is needed. The pudding can mature quietly in its bowl while I get on with other things.  It will be stacked away at the back of the cupboard and over the next few weeks I shall see it and feel happy.

I say “it” but that’s not quite true.  I shall make around twenty puddings, mostly as gifts.  In return I will be given shortbread, sausage rolls, mice pies, Florentines.  Making the puddings is effectively doing most of my Christmas baking.

And now I can sit down with a cup of coffee knowing that I have made a huge start on my Christmas preparations.  I shall enjoy the feeling.   It won't last.

Thank you

Looking after Holly looms pretty large these next few weeks but looking after me looms even larger.  All my routine health appointments  fall in October/November.

Yesterday I went to my flu and covid vaccinations.  In a couple of weeks I am due to have routine blood tests.  Early November I have tests on my legs to make sure any complications as a result of old injuries are caught early.  A couple of weeks later I have an RSV vaccination.  (Older people often feel like pincushions as we are offered so many vaccinations!)  And when everything has been tested my regular medications will be reviewed.

Like many people I am concerned about the NHS.  I know we grumble about waiting lists, the difficulty in getting appointments, telephone queues etc and I too have the occasional moan. 

The NHS is not perfect. It is under enormous pressure, and those who work in it are often expected to do far too much with far too little. But every day, doctors, nurses, healthcare assistants, paramedics, porters, cleaners, receptionists and countless others turn up to care for people they may never have met before.  And they do all this for people from every walk of life.

But perhaps we could also make a little more room for saying thank you.  Small gestures cannot solve the NHS's enormous problems, but they can remind the people who work there that their efforts are noticed.  The NHS belongs to all of us, and so does the responsibility to value it.

So today, I simply want to say thank you, NHS.

 

What did Roman soldiers do in the winter

Roman soldiers used their hibernacula to shelter from the winter, repair their equipment, eat, sleep, play games and generally prepare themselves for the next bout of looting and pillaging and conquering.

They still had duties to perform.  Rust and rot were as much an enemy as were conquered peoples seeking to rebel against Roman rule.  Weapons needed cleaning, buildings needed repairing, and somebody had to stand guard.

I have no empire to defend, no barbarian hordes at the garden gate and very few weapons requiring polishing. My winter preparations are more likely to involve checking the heating, finding my slippers and making sure there is something comforting in the freezer.

The regular routine of training, eating, sleeping and so on would continue.  There was probably more time for socialising with one’s comrades and maybe even a little self-care.

There is one important difference between my hibernaculum and a Roman military camp. I am in charge. No centurion shouting at me to get up at dawn. No military drills in freezing weather. And absolutely no marching around in the rain merely to demonstrate my fitness.

Almost time

It's almost time for my hibernaculum!  This is the first time I can remember looking forward with pleasure to winter, which says a lot for how I found my first attempt last year.

Hibernaculum?  It's what Roman soldiers used to call their winter quarters when they took a break from looting and pillaging.  These days it's more commonly a place for over-wintering plants, or the lair of a wintering animal.   

I had read that the Scandinavian peoples are amongst the happiest in the world which seemed very odd as they have much "harder" winters than we do.  I wondered if I too could have happier winters.

One of my great sources of inspiration was "The Gifts of Winter" by Stephanie Fitzgerald.  She had started from a similar viewpoint to mine i.e Winter Is Bleugh!  I actually read an article from The Guardian first.  This takes several points from the book in a very short form.

This year I start with a little experience as to what helped me.  I've started to batch cook and freeze some of my favourite meals for days when cooking feels like too much effort.  I've dug out and added to my collection of LED candles.  I've draped throws over all the chairs in the sitting room.

I've also set aside money for a treat meal each week and some flowers.  It's part of my self-care.

Visiting Holly

 I've got quite a few nights with Holly Dog this month while G, her regular staff, has gone to America to visit her daughter.  Holly is a bit subdued at the moment.  She was distinctly off colour last week so G took her to the vet and she has been sorted but she's not her usual perky self.

I think she may have decided to train me rather better.  She wasn't very enthusiastic about her food when I arrived but she persuaded me that roast chicken might coax her appetite.  It did.  The smell of it roasting had her nose twitching and she found it necessary to do extensive tests as to its quality.  I think it passed but there is plenty for both of us for a couple of days.

And while I am here I have taken a picture of "my" tree.  It's still got most of its leaves but a few have fallen.  

Canadian Thanksgiving

Greetings to one and all but especially my Canadian readers.  There is something rather appealing about a country that celebrates being thankful in October, before the Christmas madness begins. 

Canadian Thanksgiving falls on the second Monday in October. The leaves are turning, the evenings are drawing in, and we English are wondering whether it is too early to put the heating on.

I understand Canadians celebrate with roast turkey, stuffing, gravy and pumpkin pie. Christmas dinner, almost, but without the expense of presents, the Christmas cards or the annual hunt for Sellotape.  I rather like the idea. Although pumpkin pie might leave me wondering what to do with the rest of the pumpkin.

Thanksgiving is about pausing to appreciate the good things in life. We have our own harvest festivals in England, of course, -  I led one yesterday.  But perhaps we could borrow a little of the Canadian spirit and set aside an autumn day for good food, friendship and a moment to count our blessings.

A quiet day of gratitude, with a roast dinner and perhaps a pudding, sounds splendid.  And if gratitude happens to come with roast potatoes, I am entirely in favour.

Harvest Thanksgiving

 

Harvest invites us to pause. Before we rush on to the next task, the next worry or the next thing on our shopping list, we are asked to notice what we have received.

 For there is so much for which to be grateful.  The harvest of farm and of field is top of our minds.   I live in the countryside and see it growing.  And there are tins and packets in my kitchen which came from distant lands. 

Then there are the harvests of friendship, forgiveness, companionship, laughter, that carry me through difficult days.

Not every harvest is what we would choose. Some people come to this season carrying grief, loneliness, illness or financial worry.   Gratitude does not make all our troubles disappear. But even in difficult times, we may discover small signs of God's presence: a listening ear, a helping hand, a moment of peace.

 Our gratitude, too, should turn us towards others. If we are grateful for God's generosity, we can become more generous ourselves. If we are thankful for our food, we should care about those who go hungry. If we are thankful for kindness, we should offer kindness. If we are thankful for the gifts of creation, we should do what we can to protect them.  Harvest comes in many forms and we need to remember that the earth is not ours to exploit but God's gift to us, entrusted to our care.

 May the harvest of our lives be rich in gratitude, generous in love, and faithful in service.

 

 

 

 

Where on Earth Have They Put Everything?

My Kia Niro aka The Empress

My old car and I understood each other perfectly. Now I I feel as though I need to learn to drive all over again. 

My first problem was the handbrake – it’s just a button to press!  I drove an automatic around thirty years ago but this is so different!

I had my old car nearly nine years and we had come to an understanding with each other.    For years, I knew exactly where everything was. Now I can't tell whether I'm indicating or washing the windscreen. There is something deeply undignified about spraying water everywhere when all you wanted to do was turn a corner.

And the wretched thing keeps beeping at me!  Am I too close to something? Have I crossed an invisible boundary? Is it trying to tell me I've forgotten my handbag?

Still, I'm making progress. Each journey brings a little more confidence, and I'm beginning to recognise which buttons matter and which can safely be ignored.  I’m taking things slowly, sticking to familiar routes and resisting the temptation to press buttons simply to see what happens.

Give it time. Before long, it will feel like an old friend. I'll know where everything is and the strange noises will become familiar.  Give me time.