Woodland Diversion

Best thing about my inlaws' place: the seven acres of woods on their land, and I needed a diversion from the binge-fest of festive TV. The wean wasn't interested in a walk in the woods but his cousin R and the dogs were, so they tagged along. 

I had been instructed to arrive no later than 11.30 a.m. and had got there bang on time. Still, the wean & Co couldn't wait to open the presents. My inlaws do Kris Kindle, which makes the present-business much more affordable. Luckily, all of my close friends / cousins are as skint as ourselves. Anyway, I got socks, slippers (grandfather-training gear), the Human Universe DVD, Leonard Cohen live at the Point and Simon & Garfunkle. The wean got yet more Star Wars Lego stuff. 

Lovely food, beef with raddish sauce, Champaign, etc. No religious paraphernalia of course, which suits me fine. 

My childhood Christmases weren't particularly religious either, and I think our excursions to midnight mass had something in them of avoiding the necessity of trekking up in the cold on Christmas morning (I keep remembering Kavanagh's lovely lines: '...mass-going feet / Crunched the wafer-ice on the potholes'). 

There was a certain mysterious glow to the occasion though (something of the candleflame light of old icons, a trail of gum-drop lights twisting into a thick, warm forest...), which has all but vanished for me, or anyway seems about as distant as the excitement I felt going to bed, barely believing I'd eventually fall asleep, to wake early and nudge with my feet the weight of something deposited on the bed, hear the rustle of fresh gift-wrapping paper.