Newhaven corner

Old and new buildings at Newhaven Harbour as we turned up for a last lunch with family before heading home. The old red stone of the building which houses the Loch Fyne restaurant contrasts with the new blocks of flats which seem to pop up between our visits in the burgeoning mini-town growing on the reclaimed land beside the harbour.

We’d spent the morning packing and doing laundry - the rituals of Christmas as we now experience it. We were going for turkey soup and sandwiches - the last rites for the bird which fed six of us for three days before the soup stage.

Enough of this narrative. We’re home now. The house is decidedly chilly, despite this crazily mild weather and the fact that I put the heating on before we reached the M8. I hate leaving the family, even while knowing that my mother was right and the five day rule is a vital rule of family harmony. I childishly hate the end of the festivities even as I know that Christmas is still with us.

What’s more, my larder is empty again. We cannot live on cake and chocolate. Tomorrow, the supermarket. Tonight: bed. And soon.