The first of December is upon us. Before I started writing, at this point in the year I would be champing at the bit to get the decorations up, and knee deep in sausage rolls, and other little delicacies for the freezer. This year all I’ve been doing is writing manically, but thoughts of baubles and trees are now gaining the upper hand over scribbling. Growing up with a gorgeous, crazy, Irishwoman as a mother not only leaves me with lots of fantastic, if unusual, memories of childhood, it also leaves me with the burden of a rather large set of superstitions. It’s bad luck to so much as open the box of baubles before the official twelfth day before the twenty fifth.
I do love the bling. And also the kitsch. Give me a pile of shiny things, and a gaudy plastic chocolate fountain, and I suddenly become a very happy twelve year old. My older sister – thoughts of who certainly do not bring back warm and fuzzy childhood memories, but rather of hair pulling fights over misappropriated jeans – always used to say that I had the taste of a gypsy, and dressed like a tart. I flatly deny ever having bad taste in what I wore. Everyone dressed like a tart in the eighties, didn’t they? I don’t agree with the gypsy thing either. I prefer to think of my taste as eclectic. This year, considering what could happen on the twenty first, around elevenish, I am going to forget the superstitions, tastefully line up my plastic Santa’s and snowmen on the Adam Beade Welsh Dresser, hang loud plastic baubles from the light fixtures, and haul out the bright pink glass punch set early.
I’m in a celebratory mood. Twenty twelve has been a mad year. Full of incredible highs, terrible lows, and lots of self-doubt. It’s been very hard work too, with a constant underlying desperation to get things finished. Home and family have been neglected like never before, leading to thoughts of whether I’ll ever accomplish anything at all. I was going to pretty much ignore Christmas this year, and just push on through, and at least have something to show for myself. Then this morning it occurred to me that I actually have accomplished a few things already. Apart from African Me being almost ready for your eyeballs, in the last three months, I have published two short little books, which to my own amazement, people are buying, and liking, mostly anyway. Shadow People, only begun on the first of November, will be joining them very soon. Among other things, I’ve taught myself how to design a book cover, and format an ebook, with only the help of my dear friend Google. I think I’ve done alright after all.
Now it’s time to have fun, remember what’s really important, and get started on making Christmas special for those special people who have put up with crap dinners, and quietly supported me, as I barely noticed them on my mad trip to write a book. And in that spirit, I’m off to start the party early, and send the love family way.
Till next time friends. xxx