Christmas Day dawned fair – a long-awaited break in the weather brought a day of blue skies, sunshine, and very little wind. Perfect for our picnic walk, though the tide times were anything but perfect.
High tide was due around 4pm, when it would be dark. We took a chance and headed out around midday, thinking that the tide might be low enough to allow us to walk along the edge of the shore if there were cows in the field.
Having pointed the car in the wrong direction, we took the route around Otterswick – passing J on our way, who was out for a ride on her tinsel-bedecked mount. “I shouldtake a photograph,” I said, but failed to do so. Never mind, you can enjoy the sight of both J & G at the BBC.
There were cows, but the tide was still too high to allow us to walk far on the beach. We settled for an up-and-down progress.
It was good to sit in the sun and watch the waves. All the dogs behaved themselves pretty well and I managed to come home with a set of nice photographs. (See more of the dogs in this post.)
We came home to cheese and port, then went to bed to watch a DVD in comfort – but not before opening my mysterious parcel… with a “squeee!” of delight. And why not? It was a new addition to my fibre stash! Santa really does exist.
A wonderful day – quiet, peaceful, low-key. Just the way that we like it.
Boxing Day doesn’t happen in Scotland, but for ease of reference we will label the day that follows as such.
We took the dogs out in the garden, we ate more pie, we played with the Spirograph sets. The day passed as quietly as the one previous.
Most of the holiday has been spent in rejigging Woolgathering (me) and some low-key knitting (me again) and in Cumulus support (‘im). We have tried to give the dogs as much attention and exercise as we can, and to spend time in the kitchen on slow food such as home-made pasta. We have attempted to keep out of the office as much as possible and have been jointly working on crosswords or listening to the radio or watching more Six Feet Under. Email has been mostly switched off, and PCs on standby rather than switched on wherever possible.
At the time of writing we have another week of holiday left. I daresay that it will pass in similar fashion. Tomorrow we go to Kirkwall to seek something nice for our anniversary dinner. New Year’s Eve will be spent in the usual romantic fashion. Friday is penciled in for some publishing work, and Saturday night is for socialising and treasure-seeking.