I always thought this was the last day of Christmas but the priest said firmly at mass last Sunday that it is not over until next Sunday. I am doubtful but I suppose he knows best. It seems sad that by the time Epiphany or Women’s Christmas rolls around everyone is back at school and work and it is grim January at it worst. When I was small, I think it was a holiday but not any more. Still, this evening as I came up the road in the dark, I saw that all the neighbours have their trees up and lit and they looked beautiful.
This evening Mr. Waffle made dinner and cleaned up as it was Women’s Christmas (unfair when he also helped to wash up after dinner on Christmas Day but there you are, he is paying for the sins of the patriarchy). He and I and the boys played 110 in which Michael channelled my mother and overbid outrageously. Like his Nana, he is lucky though and has a good feeling for cards so he survived. So far have I gone from my roots that I had to text my father to double check whether the rules allowed for reneging on the ace of trumps (he thinks not). I was surprised how enjoyable it was. We played in two pairs as my poor first born was the picture of misery from a nasty cold and not up to the effort of cards. After the boys went to bed, she and I watched the end of singalong “Sound of Music” later which we both enjoyed considerably more than her father.
So that’s the end of Christmas for me whatever the parish priest may feel. Tomorrow we say goodbye to our tree. Alas.
