Year of the Goat
The fire is blazing, the telly silent till 'Mapp and Lucia', one cat asleep in the red bean bag, the other perched on top of the sofa.
Emmy growls. Solly stares at her and she moans like an old wart hog.
There was the possibility of going out BUT, well there's always a but; we've had visitors for two days, it's cold, we've got guests on Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, so we preferred to stay in.
We walked in the forest at noon. Bloody freezing, I was underdressed and the old git hatless and scarfe-less. I'd bought a bottle of water from the Ice-Cream man who parks in the car park come rain or shine. The bottle was colder than the air. 4 degrees and dropping.
We've got loads of firewood courtesy of the new next door neighbours who have been reshaping Number 3. It feels bad burning oak, but the 'oosbind says it's been split and smashed out of the house. If we had wanted to make something out of it we could have but taking to carpentry at this time of life ain't gonna happen, although my husband really is a trained cabinet maker.
So 2014 came and went some friends have fallen away new ones have emerged. We're one year older and lucky to be waking up in the morning.
Old friends have played Scrabble with us, older friends have gone the way of the angels, and new friends have started inviting themselves go the cottage. I love it. Feel flattered that the young things can be bothered to spend time with two folks as old as Methuselah.
My toe nails are painted red, my lips are painted red, the glimmer of the room feels red what with cushions and throws and silk lampshades.
The fire is crackling and sighing, at the chime of midnight we will pop a bottle of Jura Champagne, gifted to us by somebody, and my partner of 37 years will chink my glass, look down at me through his varifocals, declare his love for me, and by 12.34 we will be overtaken by fatigue and creep up to bed.
I will get up at 7.00, meditate for an hour, snooze then get up and do a further 30 minutes communing with the invisible world. We'll get dressed - properly this time - and walk in the frosty countryside. And then I shall make food for the self inviting guests.
We'll talk about what needs changing for 2015, we will crack yet more bottles of something boozy -which I shall decline - and then we'll sit down for some kind of nosh made from the left overs.
We will send the self inviting guests off, wash the plates, chat about how nice it was to have them but how much nicer it is to be alone. We will play a game of Scrabble, I'll win and before you can say twenty bloody fifteen we'll be in bed reading our Christmas gifts. Anthologies and such like.
Tonight though, as the fireworks cascade outside the window, the cat will curl up on the old man's head. I'll write my first post of 2015, take calls from the dawters who will all shout Happy New Year down the line from noisy places, read something until my eyes close, then create the menu for January 1st 2015.
I don't want to die yet too much to do.
So to all of you lovely bloggers, thank you for this year, may 2015 bring you health, wealth, love and perfect self expression. Lets catch up in Year of the Goat, I'm not kidding
Jeni Barnett tells of her scrumptious time at Good Food Live in her first audiobook! Download NOW from iTunes