The tree is on its way out. It always makes me sad, because I like my Christmas tree. And after our second Christmas in the ‘new’ Bookwitch Towers, I am very satisfied with its position in the house too, while the Resident IT Consultant is less thrilled.
I like it because I see it as I exit the other downstairs rooms, since despite the grand name, Bookwitch Towers is a small bungalow, albeit double-fronted. So unlike the much larger, old BT, this one offers a long vista from one end to the other, and I rather like seeing the tree all lit up across the rooms.
The reason the Resident IT Consultant isn’t so happy is that it blocks off the reference books for four weeks every year. My feeling is that with all those mince pies needing attention, he will have no time to look things up [in books]. And if he absolutely must, he can jolly well look up what’s in the almost reachable half behind the tree.
And let’s face it; once the books are uncovered again, the reunion will be that much sweeter.
I may have mentioned the Great Grandfather’s jigsaws before. Or not. I’ll mention them again, just in case.
He liked woodworky stuff and had a variety of exciting tools and made a number of things that we still have around the house. And he made jigsaws. With the jigsaw, I presume.
They are most devious, and to my mind almost impossible to do. But the in-law relatives enjoy them and swap them, and there can be big gatherings over the jigsaw board.
We didn’t have a big group of people this Christmas, but the Resident IT Consultant popped over to the late Grandmother’s flat to steal some jigsaw puzzles (what with me having placed the Christmas tree in front of the cupboard doors where we keep ours…) so he would have something to occupy himself with.
Below is what he left to ‘someone else’ to finish after a long session. Daughter pronounced it impossible, but still managed it after some mutterings. In one way it seems perfectly easy. I mean, you pick up one piece and try it in one spot, until you find the one that fits. And so you go on.
Looked at another way, what Daughter was left with was a pile of almost identical snowflake shaped pieces in off-white. Which is fine. I just don’t quite get how a group of snowflakes will fit and fill the remaining hole in this Chinese mining poster, despite the fact that I remember ‘helping’ to do this very jigsaw some thirty years ago. Possibly I just stood on the sidelines and cheered.
We ate a lot, and at the end of the day we opened the presents (which has the added advantage that I can now reach to switch off some of my decorative lights again).
They were mainly flatpacks. Hard parcels as the Swedes say. The Resident IT Consultant had already owned up to giving only books. As if we needed any more! Admittedly, I did ask for a Margery Allingham I’d discovered we didn’t seem to own.
And I actually got a piece of furniture in one of my parcels.
Daughter got the most in number, the Resident IT Consultant seemed pleased with his slippers and chocolate marmite, and Son and Dodo will be melting cheese for fondue from now on. That is if they manage to stagger home under the weight of fondue pot and cheese packs.
We’re having a blue Christmas this year. So that’s why I’ve got a few of the bluer hearts made for me by Mother-of-witch. They are a standard tree adornment in the Nordic countries, but no matter how I try, I cannot make one.
So one year, quite a long time ago, I asked Mother-of-witch if she could make me a few hearts, and she did.
Luckily they have lasted all this time, and I handle them with the utmost care.
Although, it appears that Daughter has the knack. These things often skip a generation. So maybe she can be relied upon to make replacements if they are needed. If I can only lay my hands on the right kind of paper…