Friday was World Sleep Day and Red Nose Day. Yesterday was the Vernal Equinox, the beginning of spring, International Happiness Day and Persian New Year. Today is Census Day and International Day of Forests.
That’s eight days in just 72 hours and doesn’t come close to naming all the high days and holy days that other people celebrate. It’s really no wonder I am exhausted.
Continue reading “day after day”
Different people celebrate Christmas very differently. And of course some people don’t celebrate at all. Personally, I’d tend towards the latter.
I loathe the commercialisation and waste associated with mass festivities. I don’t own a Christmas jumper, or tinsel earrings. I think family gatherings are over-rated. And I don’t see the point in waiting for a specific date to give gifts.
Continue reading “Christmas reflections”
I know I am not alone when I look back to my childhood and remember the seasons clearly defined, not just by weather, but by the produce and products available in the shops. But now hot cross buns are on sale at Christmas, and mincemeat and Christmas puddings reach the supermarket shelves at August Bank Holiday.
As I remember it, in our house, although we didn’t really celebrate them all, there was a clear progression from Hallowe’en to Guy Fawkes Night to Remembrance Day. Then there was a bit of a lull, as Christmas wasn’t to be mentioned until December.
Continue reading “family Christmas”
My mother mentioned that yesterday was St Andrew’s Day, adding that this meant that there would be no more “special days” until Christmas.
Well, I may have been brought up a Protestant, but I lived in Spain long enough to know that that couldn’t be right: every day seems to be the feast day of a dozen or more saints in the Catholic calendar, so I headed off to Google to find out more about St Andrew, as well as what other dates may be coming up that I should pay attention to.
Continue reading “ordinary days”
The post Fairground Colours, written some years ago, includes the phrase “There’s little sadder than a fairground by daylight”.
But that was in Spain, where the heat and dazzle of the sun drain the bright neon from the rides and leave drab pastels instead.
Here in the UK, the light has a different quality.
Continue reading “imagined colours”
