Occasional pauses from the treadmill of professional life such as Christmas holidays can result in life changes. Alex and I spent last Christmas cogitating about moving from her cottage and we ended up starting our house hunt last January. This resulted in the House Project which consumed us so much through 2010. This Christmas holiday gave us the opportunity to draw our breath and we agreed that any major decisions would be put on ice until our next Winter break.
The only decision firmly taken was by our dear Floridian friends – Cheri and Bobby who flew over to spend the holiday with their family in the Village. That decision was that we simply must visit them at Easter to help them celebrate 20 years of togetherness. This seems entirely noble to us and plans were drawn up.
Skype discussions in advance of their trip to the Village this Christmas made Cheri and Bobby realise that we were not going to have a Christmas tree in the Village house. But they came prepared and brought our very own interpretation of Christmas a la Florida in the form of our breasted, sunglassed all singing, all dancing Floridian palm tree.
We raked over the memories of our Christmas visit with them two years ago and worked on some new ones this trip. Such as kick starting the Irish economy. Night after night during the break we have been inclined to get into our PJs as early as possible and curl up in front of the fire. But we all agreed that such activity would not help the country get back on the road to recovery. So with that in mind we ventured out to the pub one night and hooked up with a few other like minded women friends. For a few brief moments early in the evening there was a slender gay majority in the Village pub. So we wondered if that makes it a gay friendly pub now, officially if unwittingly.
Keen to consolidate the bon vivieur we all agreed to go to the curry house in Town the next night. I laughed over dinner at Bernie’s account of the gay friendly coffee shop in her town. It would have been enough if it had been friendly, never mind being gay, she explained.
Otherwise the break has been taken up with walking Blue, meeting friends and intermittent skype reports from BF in Florida. The surprise hit this season has been the Angry Birds app on the i-phone. Alex in those in between moments has succeeded already making her way up through 20 levels or more. I enjoyed two things on the TV. One was Upstairs Downstairs and the other was Bas an Oilean about the evacuation of Inis Airc in 1960. A friend dropped by for lunch one of the days and informed us that the chat up line of the Christmas was – How was the water with you over the Christmas?
The only fly in the ointment over the Christmas break is that Alex’s dear grandmother continues to be fragile. It resulted in her doctor recommending her going to her local cottage hospital. We shall return to the Piccadilly Line via Alex’s Welsh village and check on how she’s doing. I spent the odd hour with the lively Helen in the Village. We have pored over photos of her family while she enlightened me about the Village of her youth. The i-phone has cone into its own in the hours I have spent with her as we sang along to the Percy French songs on the i-phone. We entreated Paddy Reilly to come home and felt homesick for the Mountains of Mourne. As we wrapped up the sing-song Helen asked if I had the Irish Emigrant on my i-phone. I did not … but I have it now. Downloaded in a flash for 99p. A small price to pay to make an older lady happy.
So the last day in the Village came upon us all of a sudden. We are resigned to going back to the Piccadilly Line. But as always, the worst thing about this is thinking about it. Once there, life tends to assume its welcome routine of familiarity. We cannot go on existing on Caitlin’s mince pies, or Cheri’s mum’s scones, the Thornton chocolates, the sausage sandwiches for breakfast. New Year – new opportunities. Bring it on…
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