Chimes

– It's nearly midnight. The start of a new year.
– Whatever. It happens every year.
– Well, yes it would. But that doesn't diminish the significance of the moment.
– Should I break open the fizz? Maybe a bag of dry roasted?
– It's not just about shallow celebrations – although, yes, it is time to get the drinks out of the fridge – but it represents a pivotal point in your life, a moment for reflecting on the achievements and tribulations of the previous twelve months and resolving to be a better person in the future.
– Or there are some prawn cocktail crisps here...
– Prawn cocktail? I never buy prawn cocktail.

Lull

There is another slightly awkward period now, between Christmas and New Year. One series of wildly unbridled celebrations is over and the next is yet to begin. In between, we have a few days off work, during which we survey the ruins of the Christmas festivities scattered around our living rooms and ask ourselves where we go from here.

The days have slipped by very quickly. Given all the time I had on my hands, there is little to show for it: perhaps the fridge is a little tidier than when it was tightly crammed from top to bottom with turkey only a few days ago, but I've not made any progress with all the various household tasks I had planned to see to over the holidays. You manage to persuade yourself that it's better to take some time out and relax properly, so that when you get back to work next week you will feel rejuvenated and literally bubbling with enthusiasm. But you suspect that the bubbles will pop fairly quickly, and you will find yourself counting down the days to the next holiday.

I should make some resolutions before the old year shuffles grumpily out the door. I'm never very good at that sort of thing: thinking up original and life-enhancing resolutions, and having the perseverance to maintain them for more than a few hours. It's not as if there were nothing worth improving in my life: if anything, there are so many things needing fixing that it rather deflates you to go through them all and prioritise which should be done first. Perhaps the trick is to not be too ambitious. Finishing off the Christmas pudding might be a good place to start.

Wrap

– You know, this is when I really begin to look forward to Christmas: the end of a busy day, just to put your feet up and relax on the sofa with a mince pie and a glass of port, and take a moment to admire the decorations on the Christmas tree. You should try it, instead of all this constant rushing around.
– The idea had occurred to me. Unfortunately, there is a pile of presents to wrap. And the house needs tidying from top to bottom. And there are things to clean that haven't been cleaned since last Christmas. Incidentally, you're dropping crumbs from your mince pie.
– I am doing my best. It isn't easy when you're trying to juggle a couple of remote controls. But fortunately I've been recording all these interesting programmes which you're missing.
– Thank you.
– It seemed the least I could do. So when you have a spare 50 hours or so, you could catch up on your favourite shows.
– I shall look forward to it. But there's probably not much chance of that before Christmas Day.
– It's a pity. I will have to clear some space off the hard drive to record all the Christmas movies... Sometimes I think there are just not enough hours in the day.

Shortest

It's that slightly awkward period between my birthday and Christmas. You would like to use the time to take stock, to reflect on the momentous event just gone and the wild celebrations to come. But instead you find yourself in a flurry of last minute shopping, cramming more food into the fridge than is healthy, either for the fridge or for yourself, and waking each night in a cold sweat wondering what gifts you have forgotten and who, in consequence, will be mortally offended and refuse to have any future association with you. Clearly, you know that is not the appropriate spirit with which to greet the festive season, but it is difficult to put these things in perspective: there is such a lot to organise, and, worse still, to actually do, so it is inevitable that the accumulative stress begins to weigh you down.

I need some sort of schedule to coordinate present wrapping and food preparation activities. In previous years I have made valiant efforts at writing out something of the sort, in particular a detailed minute-by-minute timetable for cooking the Christmas lunch. But as with the best laid plans, it tends to fall to pieces before it's barely got going, notably when some minor hiccup, such as losing the potato peeler, or even losing the potatoes, throws everything into a disarray from which it never recovers.

Today is the winter solstice: the shortest day. With the weather remaining dismally grey and wet, the day was particularly short. But at least things brighten up from tomorrow.

Probability

It is almost my birthday – less than an hour away. It seems to come around so quickly nowadays. Perhaps that is a sign of advancing years: once, each birthday was a major advance on what had gone before, but now there is the feeling of things having plateaued a long time ago. Which is not the most inspiring thought: you rather hope that you still have many more years ahead of you, but you would prefer to be soaring to new heights rather than simply staying put, twiddling your metaphorical thumbs. Perhaps I need to be more proactive: go out and make things happen, rather than sit back and wait for them to walk up to me, grab me by the arm and drag me to a better place.

But that, I'm afraid to say, is pretty much the story of my life. I pride myself on taking a long-term view of things, but unfortunately this usually equates to the principle that something useful will turn up quite by chance, just as long as you wait long enough. On the other hand, you instinctively know that some outcomes, like winning the lottery, are so rare that you have to wait a very long time indeed; particularly if you never actually buy a ticket.

Windows

– Over halfway there.
– Over halfway where?
– Christmas. We have passed the mid-point of Advent.
– How can you tell?
– Quite simply by the number of open windows on the Advent calendar. It is proving its worth already.
– And is there a special name for this day?
– Not that I know of. But I agree, it deserves some sort of title. The tension is certainly mounting.
– What tension?
– The anticipation of the special day.
– Of course. I think I am feeling a different sort of tension:  more to do with rushing around trying to finish the shopping.
– You should try to relax. It'll either get done or it won't.
– I had worked that out for myself. That's the reason for the tension.

Self-portrait

Stew

The weather has been wild in recent days: fierce winds and torrential downpours. At least we have been spared the flooding seen further north. The storms have eased off today, so there were leaden skies but not much in the way of rain. And not much in the way of daylight.

We could do with a bit of bright winter sunshine. Cold, crisp mornings, a sprinkling of frost. Sleighbells ringing, chestnuts roasting. Perhaps it will be like that by Christmas, rather than this bleak grey Novemberish weather. As long as the snow doesn't get too deep.

For no particular reason, I baked a fish pie for dinner. Not something I bake very often. Nor pies in general: they always seem more work than is strictly necessary, as you can have a perfectly serviceable meal once you've got past the stewed meat stage, without having to go the whole hog and smother it with pastry. Fish pies are a little easier to justify, as the stewed fish stage doesn't look all that appetising, and perhaps benefits by being smothered with something.

Likewise, I never get round to making lasagne any more. Too many stages.

Steam

– What do you think? A beauty, isn't it?
– Sorry? What am I meant to be looking at? The shirt?
– The iron. I've got a new iron.
– You have? It looks like the old one.
– It is nothing like the old one.
– It's the same overall shape.
– It's the shape of an iron, agreed. But there are subtle differences in the styling. Do you want me to go through them with you?
– Not really. Was this an early Christmas present?
– The old one stopped working. But it had given many years of service, so the time was right to treat myself to a new one.
– Perhaps you were overusing the last one. I'm sure my iron has survived since – a long time ago. Maybe you've been doing too much ironing. I try to minimise how much I do, for this very reason.
– Well, I only iron what needs ironing, so it's difficult to see how I could do any less.
– Sometimes a crumpled shirt can look – casual.
– I don't think so.
– ... You should let me know if you ever run out of clothes to iron. I might possibly be able to help out.
– Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.
– Don't be afraid to ask. It's really no trouble.