Clinical Press have asked me to tell all my friends that Kindle are promoting my book over the Christmas period so for 99p you can have an amusing distraction from the distension of your abdomen or the depressing nature of the news. Here is the link https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09TQ1WGLB
Best wishes at this testing time to all my followers throughout the world. As the gods of our forefathers have been hijacked by ambitious humans for their own ends, platitudes stick in my throat so I’ll just send you all a little love.
This is not the Christmas Blog.
But it’s been an amazing year for holly — I’ve never seen so many berries. Nor such huge haws.
And the Mistletoe is marvelous.
It all bodes well for a good Christmas but we are waiting for the long predicted Waxwings to appear.
These beautiful birds live in Scandinavia but head south in winter in search of food. This is one of those exceptional years when food is thin in the trees at home and the winds have been northerly. There have been lots of sightings as they following the berries, coming further south and west as they denude the trees. We got up before dawn to sneak into Newtown College car park where there are still rowan berries, their favorite… To no avail. Maybe there is so much to eat in the North of England that they will never get to Northamptonshire where Bill photographed this one in 2013 — the last exceptional year
Yesterday was grey — the thick, wet cloud lay on the wet ground blanketing the melting snow, making the road run, frappé with ice – you remember Slush Puppies.
As we walked down hill to our village through the rain, we dug our sticks into the bank to avoid slip-sliding or aquaplaning. We remembered the conversation of the night before when the News reported ‘NHS about to be overwhelmed’ in this latest cold snap.
I’d recalled when I was a casualty officer tending the droves of the foolish elderly with their fractured ankles, wrists and hips, who’d ventured out on the first frosty morning after the ‘thaw’. Just another example of role-reversal, ‘Bill!’ I say, ‘Think how much you will enjoy the helicopter ride!’
But we make it to Llawr-y-glyn without falling and we aren’t the only ones – 30 odd villagers who should all know better, are there to drink mulled wine in the gloaming, dodging the drips and the gushes from the puddle on the canopy, as a public spirited citizen pokes it from beneath with his brolly wetting all the mince pies.
The Christmas Tree had appeared, as always, by magic – we used to decorate it with bows and baubles — but it took so long to collect them each year after the inevitable gale that now it is simply decked with lights and switched on by the youngest resident – she didn’t make a speech.
Now we trudge home, up hill. Did I mention we both had Covid recently and still puff a bit. In the dark I remember not to forget the day glow jackets,(too late!) I switch on my torch. There is no traffic so no one knocks us into the hedge leaving us for dead so we count tawny owls.
In 2018 the weather was better. The faces change but life goes on.
dianaashworth 