All Over, Red Rover...

... for Knots in the String...

Well that’s it, isn’t it?

Christmas over for another year. All that food, the presents, the angst of last-minute shopping for everything and then hoping the whole exercise goes off without any gaffs of any kind.

Ours was spread over two days as there were parts of our family having the day with the other side of their family and so forth.

Christmas Day was warm and cloudless blue, the sea as smooth as satin, the beaches completely deserted – utter heaven as we walked the terrier along a crescent-shaped bay.

We ate turkey and roast veg and drank a berry punch (sans alcohol) and we had a Christmas pudding to die for (which was filled with alcohol). In fact, I could have just eaten the pud and brandy butter alone and been happy!

But Boxing Day was the real Christmas for us because we all know that Christmas is for children with their wide-eyed innocence and excitement and our grandson came to open his gifts with us today.

He’s four and has an old head on his young shoulders. On Christmas Eve, he was allowed to shake his mother’s snowdome and make a wish and he apparently said, ‘I just wish for everyone to have love.’

When I heard this (my son phoned me) I burst into tears. But then, according to our son, the little one asked if he could have one more shake and wish of the snowdome. To which his mum and dad replied, ‘Yes, one more.’

So he shook the snowdome, watched the snow settled over the little model of Santa and sleigh and then whispered: ‘Could I wish for just one present?’

Oh, by the heavens above, I love this little man to infinity and back! No greed, no entitlement, just love and one present. Made me breathless.

Of course, he got much more than one present – after all, he has parents, two sets of grandparents plus aunts, uncles and cousins. But that’s okay because he seems to appreciate the idea of less rather than more and of the value of love.

When he and his parents arrived to celebrate Second Christmas, he opened our presents and then we went swimming in that clear blue sea that I longed for during the desperate grey days of our long Big Wet. I dived down and swam along the sandy bottom, looking into the water-washed blue distance, at laced strands of taupe kelp and green sea grass. It was a blurred view without a diving mask but heaven nevertheless, and I loved that my hair was filled with salt and that I had salt rime all over my skin when I walked out of the sea.

A flock of pied oystercatchers stood on a sandy rise in the middle of the lagoon, heads turned to the seabreeze and when we walked along the beach, they rose in unison, all ten or more, their red legs and beaks a brilliant contrast to their slightly piebald bodies. They scooped behind us and landed to face seaward again, and I wondered what they were observing, what ritual was this, did it in fact mean anything at all?

We returned to the cottage and sat around on the porch sun-warming ourselves, and eating a small picnic lunch in the garden, and then we just faffed around. [phrasal verb. faff about/around (British English, informal) ​to spend time doing things in a way that is not well organized and that does not achieve much.]

It’s what I love about Boxing Day – the relaxed faffing that goes on as one begins to normalise one’s digestion, exercise, rest and state of equilibrium. Later, we ate an early BBQ so the family could hit the road to get back to the farm.

Fresh potato salad from our garden, fresh green salad from our son’s garden, and sausages and hamburgers. Followed by a delicious crusty, marshmallowy coffee pavlova (I made it two days ago and it sat uncovered on top of a cupboard out of harm’s way – never ever losing freshness or flavour. My mum taught me to do that.) and which I topped with whipped cream just before we ate it, placing berries from the garden all over. Red raspberries and strawberries, almost black silvanberries, burgundy loganberries and magenta boysenberries – a small taste of divinity.

And then it was all done.

All over, Red Rover.

Christmas was packed away, fresh flowers were put in the place of Christmas, the house filling with the scent of glossy Kaffir lime leaves in a vase with white agapanthus buds.

I’m ready for my summer now.

Pretty simple really.

Just swimming, sand, sea and maybe anything boatish, with a bit of writing, reading and stitching on the side.

It’s all I want…

Bookshelves.

Still reading Lindsay Jane Ashford’s The House at Mermaid Cove on my kindle. I’m so enjoying this as the protagonist is invited to join Churchill’s Secret Army. Good story and would make a super TV series.

I finished Old Rage by Sheila Hancock on Christmas Eve and through lack of time, have yet to pick my next audio. Any suggestions would be most welcome. Historical fiction? Memoirs of the Good?

Watching.

The Christmas special of Doc Martin and the last ever episode of Doc Martin, having been enthusiastic fans since 2004. We also watched the partnered doco about the filming of the show, about Port Isaac/Port Wenn and about the filming of that last series. Excellent view of the forensic detail that goes into filming a high-quality series with perfect continuity.

We also watched another doco (first in a two part series) presented by actress Vicky McLure (Line of Duty) on the Dementia Choir It reminded us both of the recent ABC doco presented by Myf Warhurst – as immensely emotive as the above and called Keep on Dancing.

My husband and I wondered if it was just that we are at a vulnerable age that made these two series call to us and I suspect we are right. But even so, the power of music and dance to elevate the spirit is proven over and over and especially for me every week at ballet class.

Doing.

Nothing much. Too knackered. That will improve. (I hope!) So basically walking with the terrier and swimming in the sea. Gosh, I haven’t even vacuumed the carpet, done the ironing or washed the floors since Christmas. My Mum would be horrified!

I have read Substacks with joy. It was the best choice venturing into Substack as a writer. I began with a very small return for the writing investment but am thrilled now with those who actually open the email, let alone read it. And to those brave enough to respond, well, you make my day. Knots in the String will remain free for the long foreseeable so I hope you can share it around and join me in the future. Maybe even chase up my fiction backlist and enjoy also! The e-books are only $US2.99, but there are print versions if you prefer…

So that’s a wrap! All over Red Rover.

Best wishes to everyone, stay safe and see you next year!