Feast of the Holy Innocents today. This is one of the most popular and entertaining Christmas traditions in Spain. December 28 is the day when everyone is allowed to play practical jokes and when it is customary to buy prank items at Christmas markets like the one in the Plaza Mayor in Madrid. Not here. Anyway Lincoln council pulled the plug on the Christmas market, miserable gits.
The spiel about Spain came from the country’s official tourist website. Came up number one in search results. A bit strange. All the other sites majored on King Herod massacring babies which is v gory but highly relevant. I think I prefer the Spanish attitude to the day.
No feasting here. Don’t think it’s appropriate plus we’ve had enough food to last us a while. We can now go into hibernation in the happy knowledge that we have enough bodily reserves to last until the snows start to melt.
Coincidentally, ish, it’s the pope doing thought for the day on’t wireless. I guess they line up their top attractions over the festive season. Trying to take advantage of the mood of the moment by fielding big hitters. I would. Get the message across while people are still receptive. Suitably boring delivery mind you with a voice over in English. Tuning out. All you need is love ❤️.
I am downstairs in the snug. THG is in the kitchen having an early breakfast before doing the park run, fair play. Still a bit misty out there but as long as you can see the person in front of you you should make it around the circuit.
After yesterday’s start the process of emptying the house of offspring continues today as another leaves for home. This time Berlin. In my mind it will be cold there with icy winds blowing across from the east. Shutting my eyes I can hear the sound of jackboots ringing out across no mans land and a shout as someone is spotted trying to escape.
Not like that anymore obvs. That’s just an influence from a childhood growing up during the cold war. The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. Stuff like that. When we moved to the Isle of Man dad, as a senior civil servant, was offered a place in the nuclear bunker there. Told em to stuff it.
I remember one evening standing in our front garden hearing the wail of a siren coming from Douglas three miles away. Dad and I looked at each other wondering whether that was the three minute warning (or however many minutes it was supposed to be). Turned out to be the signal for the Douglas lifeboat to go out.
We don’t want to get back to those days do we? Nostalgia doesn’t apply.
Today I start to throttle back on the feasting, as I said. This does have to be a controlled throttling back. You can’t just go from full on feasting to totes austerity and dieting in one day. It would be like falling off a cliff. There are some planned feasts that will be difficult to avoid. New Year’s Eve for one plus the lunch at the rugby club on 4th Jan.
I guess I could drive to the rugby club but the temptations will be great and manifold and peer group pressure needs adding into the mix. Also the last time I drove to watch the rugby I got done for speeding on Bunkers Hill. 35mph. Bar stewards.
Not really a New Years Eve fan but our pals get together mid pm in the White Hart to avoid the rush and have a meal at six. Means we can be home in plenty of time for an early night and avoid the false bonhomie that comes out every year on that evening. Should be in bed by ten as usual. Phone will be on silent so don’t bother ringing. Bah humbug.