The sun sets on another glorious Yorkshire day. The burning sun cracking the marble walkways to our glorious palm tree avenues. Sunflowers swaying gentle in the warm, dry summer breeze.
It’s all a tragic fib. Another grey, misty, damp, frigid Yorkshire winter’s day. Mud everywhere. Every dog walk, covering the floors and furniture with muddy paws. Bath, after bath, after bath.
Ok, of the 3 photos, 1 is most definitely not from today……
The perfect muddy day for writing Christmas Cards and finally picking up the courage for that job….. Reading that pile of photocopied Christmas letters that are increasingly coming with cards these days. Those ‘this is what happened since last Christmas’ review letters. Holidays, failed diets, a second cousin once removed getting married, new cars, changed jobs, kitchen refurbishment and countless family portraits. If only I had the faintest idea who some of these letter stars are. Someone gave a concise history of a virus which is apparently called Covid. Then there was that letter that was just odd. Literally no idea who that family was. As hard as I wracked my peanut brain, I just couldn’t work out who these people were. Then the penny dropped. The postman had dropped off a card destined for a neighbour. Oops.
That’s 10 minutes of my life I won’t get back.
No time left to write our own family review letter. Again…. What would I write. Maybe I could just copy the letter which talked about buying that time share in Marseille then still had money left over for a skiing trip to Austria. Yes that sounds like a year review I could get behind.