We're seeing Ted and Beryl next weekend for a pre-Christmas feast-up. They invited us over for Boxing Day, but we'll be locked into a Chesworth Siblings Christmas Get-Together Special, so they insisted we venture their way before, rather than after, The Big Day. It'll be amazing, I'm sure. Beryl is aging noticeably but still seems to become sprightly when she's in a kitchen. She shows her love for people by feeding them, and any arthritic aches, rheumatic pains or general giddiness gets shoved aside by her psychological need to be cooking. I'm sure there's some kind of beneficial alternative therapy that could be established based on this phenomenon. Teaching people to ignore their ailments by giving them complicated recipes and a large group of people to feed. 'Bake Yourself Better' we could call it...
Every car journey continues to be an icy adventure. We're in proper Winter mode now, and I'm pleased to say it's not bothering me. The house is well heated, and we're not dragging The Little One out into the cold air, so there's no concern about him getting a chill. Mathew is enjoying the change of colour in the garden, mainly because our lawn is now looking exactly like the picture on his advent calendar, so he's convinced we live at the North Pole. I'm not going to convince him otherwise. I think an important aspect of parenthood is encouraging your children's imagination, and if I correct his flights of fancy when he's under five, what hope is there of him thinking creatively later in life?
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