... to leave a perfectly comfortable house, pack a bare minimum of
possessions into a bag, get into a cold motor-car and embark on a
220-mile journey to the snow-bound north of England. Actually, this is good. We are spending Christmas with Mrs QO's parents and siblings (and siblings' spouses and siblings' children and assorted dogs), a lively bunch of rugged individualists whose exuberant good-nature warms the heart at the same time that it leaves one wishing that Kanga was around to pick one up and dust one off. The hospitality will run at an average of around 35%, which may on the face of it seem a little less than ideal, but I'm quoting 'degrees proof'. There will be open fires, winter walks, small persons in feverish excitement and much rejoicing.
Mrs QO finished dressing the eight-foot tree this evening and by happy chance we were able to view it against a backdrop through the window of big, fat snowflakes falling. We feel very Christmassy.
So I send you mellow and festive wishes. Be kind to each other, be at peace, and I can surely offer no greater gift than the chance to enjoy the sublime sound of Scunthorpe Salvation Army band.
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