Christmas eve

The children left from Belfast to fly to Girona.  Nothing went to plan.  They returned to a cold house in Newry  and managed Dublin to Toulouse the next morning.

In honour of Bobby and our old christmas eve parties in Cookham, I gathered together a disparate bunch of friends to number 25.  The children arrived in time but their jaggedy sleep patterns kept them up playing the Blues until the early hours.  
The house is full of smoke and music.  I haven't been so happy in a long time,