. . . Christmas is over at Strickley. The bedroom trees have been stored on top of wardrobes, the decorations and lights taken off the real tree (with only one breakage), the tree dragged out into the garden, the kitchen swags and lights boxed up and the last bit of crumpled and torn wrapping paper used to light the fire. But the final indication is removal of the Christmas playlist on my IPod and phone.
There's still a bit of Christmas in the freezer in the form of the turkey carcass - ready to make stock for the best soup in the world. And rum butter in the fridge. And wine in the rack. And a few chocolates (at least for now).
Farm work has never really stopped of course; milking, feeding, mucking out are no respecters of seasons and holidays. Even paperwork is always with us. But now it's time to forget partying and singing along to The Best Christmas Album In The World. But it's not the end of planning. I've started a new list - for a pensioners' party next month.What shall we eat? What games shall we play (suitable for everyone from 2 years and beyond?). Who will sleep where?
There's still a bit of Christmas in the freezer in the form of the turkey carcass - ready to make stock for the best soup in the world. And rum butter in the fridge. And wine in the rack. And a few chocolates (at least for now).
Farm work has never really stopped of course; milking, feeding, mucking out are no respecters of seasons and holidays. Even paperwork is always with us. But now it's time to forget partying and singing along to The Best Christmas Album In The World. But it's not the end of planning. I've started a new list - for a pensioners' party next month.What shall we eat? What games shall we play (suitable for everyone from 2 years and beyond?). Who will sleep where?
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