I feel like a churl having said next to nothing about how Christmas at the Manse went, especially after so many of you sent kind wishes that it be a happy day for my family as they gathered there for the first Christmas in more than 30 years. And now it feels a little late in the game to be writing about it, Christmas being well over and all. (And don’t you find, by the way, that by the time Christmas is over you’re rather glad of the fact? What with all the advance work, it does seem to drag on…)
But anyway, the real reason for my tardiness in writing about Christmas is that, as I hinted in yesterday’s post, Raymond and I really were quite sick with cold and flu at Christmas – sicker than we let ourselves believe, sicker than we let on to others, and sicker than we even realized till now, a few days later, when we’re finally starting to feel better.
Nevertheless we hosted the clan, and the clan came (one of them, one of my sister Melanie’s boys, also down with the flu), and a nice time was had by all. The Manse was as spiffed-up as a house very much in need of a reno can be, the tree looked beautiful, there was a modest supply of gifts under it, and there was a turkey dinner cooked largely by Raymond within the constrictions of the Manse’s tiny pantry. And a flaming Christmas pudding and a buche de Noël for dessert. No one went away hungry.
Melanie put it nicely in a thank-you note she sent me the other day when she was herself starting to come down with the same bug that had struck Raymond and me: “Next time … which will be soon, I hope. Many more parties at the manse in the days ahead!”
Now that’s the spirit!