What a strange, quiet Christmas.
We were scheduled to go and spend Christmas with Urban-Cub. Urban-Cub, however, came down with Covid-19. We adapted. We had the first Christmas at home, by ourselves since 1973. Just the Gorse Fox and the Silver Vixen, it was lovely.
The tree is dressed and remains untouched. A side of salmon baked in the oven. A bottle of Prosecco was shared. We exchanged our cards. It really was quite special.
The phone started to buzz. Urban-Cub was up and about and clearly feeling a lot better. We chatted with her and later with Cousteau-Cub.
Urban-Cub needed some extra provisions, so just as we were about to serve up our lunch, we popped round the corner with some eggs and some cream. But this time, Ellie was back from Pistol Pete. She was so excited by the "Barbie's Playhouse" she had received that she played with it the whole time that we were there (Urban-Cub stood out in the garden). Needless to say, it took a lot longer to get away than the Gorse Fox had expected. When we got home, the carrots had roasted themselves to charcoal. It didn't matter, we made do with the salmon, some roast potatoes, and courgettes. (After all, we need to pace ourselves, given the various visitors we are expecting over the next week).
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