And so – Christmas Day at long last.
I hope I speak for everyone who’s posted this month when I say “Thanks” to Karen and Pete (and that bloody Ubotka) for the idea, and for letting all of us write about their own Festering Seasons in their own ways.
It’s been a great read, and I honestly can’t think of any other site that would have ever been able to come up with such a concept.
Now – what’s the plan for January, guys? 🙂
Well, there it is then. Yulevent, all done and dusted. I’ve enjoyed reading the various contributions, some people writing about their particular modus Christmerandi, others writing about particular events that have influenced how they experience the season, and others picking a particular seasonal topic and really going with it. Continue reading
Posted by Donkey on behalf of Bekki (@pigwotflies)
Christmas in the PWF family is about, in roughly equal measure: Jesus; food; presents and squeezing as many family members as possible into one room. Continue reading
Posted by Donkey on behalf of Amy [@cat_knits]
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…”
Er no. It’s really not.
“In the bleak mid-winter…”
Again no. It’s sunny. I’m wearing flip flops (or jandals) and high factor sunscreen.
“Snow is falling, all around us…” Continue reading
Today is the shortest day of the year, but for me it is the longest.
I’ve been awake, off and on since midnight riding a wave of memories. Most of mine can be shared with only a handful of people, it’s the theft of age and death has been with me since childhood.
The one that haunts my Solstice is my mother’s. To tell you who she was would take pages, and really all that’s important is that she was vibrant, generous, fierce and force before whom politicians trembled, and we loved her.
On December 21, 2005 the phone rang at just before noon- she was dead. Heart attack. A heart attack after four years of a barely living hell, caused by a massive stroke suffered on the operating table as one and then two surgeons attempted to correct one and then a second aneurysm. I had dropped everything to spend five months with her in rehab- hoping to get her to the point where she could return to her own home. Those five months were torture for us both. She went home. Round the clock care was hired. Organizing a large public funeral was already done- we’d laid out most of the plans together. She was an organizer. It was the only thing left to her in those last years. The funeral was on Boxing Day. Christmas is hard. Her death was a relief, but still…
This is the shortest day. Good.
It’s the shortest day, which might mean rushing around like fools trying to get everything done, or it might mean howling at the moon and praying for the light. Either way, if you have an uborka login please feel free to post something – a photograph or a thought – or just comment here. Do you do anything to mark the winter solstice?
Some years we have made the effort to eat yellow and orange food and light candles at dusk; this year we’re having solstice spaghetti and no individual gifts but maybe some sort of family treat later in the afternoon. It’s a vile day outside and we have chores to do before we can look forward to the rest of the holidays.
Welcome to Panto Bar, secret hangout of underground Panto players. What? You didn’t know? Well it’s a secret innit? Continue reading
The trouble with coming in so late to an event such as this is it has mostly been said. We’ve heard the spectrum from bah humbuggers to deck the hallsers – though none were very rampant  – and have all most politely agreed that Christmas is as Christmas does; that one is at liberty to shape one’s own festivities whether that includes saluting the Queen or necking a bottle of Baileys (or both, or neither). I get the impression the traditional family rows and tensions – and Christianity – have gone out of fashion, though perhaps that is 11 months of fading memories for the former, which might feature more prominently in a Boxing-day post, and Uborka self-selection for the latter. Continue reading