The Christmas Cow

I know. Oh really I do know: BrocanteHome is surely the least festive of every site on the net right now. How could this be? I am all about ritual and celebration aren’t I?

The answer is of course yes. But this year, me and Christmas have somewhat fallen out and I am not quite pulling off all the usual whimsy, fripperie and delicious little nothings I usually manage to squeeze into the first few weeks of December. One does so hate to admit this, when one is usually to be found sitting smug in front of a lovely tree with all presents wrapped by now, tut tuting at those less organised than thou, but hey ho, here is yours truly sat without a single present wrapped and a tree still lounging in the loft! I am a tired disgrace!  I do hope Santa hasn’t got a whip…

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There are of course various rubbishy reasons for this seasonal malaise, including a dramatic change in my financial circumstances, (so life and Christmas is suddenly an uphill struggle all over again), and a chronic case of dis-organisation that had me insisting that Mark should accompany me to parents evening last night, only to get there and realize we had arrived twenty four hours early! Ouch! And so there we were, me and Finn’s Daddy sitting in his car, me apologizing past myself and him silent and counting all the ways it was a good idea to leave me…

This morning I woke up to find that my car had been smashed into by one of next doors church goers and feeling almost at the end of my festive rope, I sat myself down and gave myself a truly good talking to: because like it or not, I may not be in the mood for Christmas but Christmas is in the mood for me and there is no escaping it’s holly wrapped demands!  There is so much to do! A very, very special vintage something to be  painted for a very special baby, presents to be wrapped in brown paper, a tree to be decorated, garlands and popcorn to be strung, leaves to be swept, walls to be touched up with paint, a bathroom currently sporting two loo’s (one plumbed in and one waiting patiently to replace it!) to be scrubbed and Christmas Eve pyjamas still to be bought and scented with cinnamon for a little boy so excited about Christmas for the very first time in his life I am starting to wonder whether he has been replaced by a Santa believing doppelganger!

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And oh the places we will go! Already there has been a wonderful Saturday spent wandering around the German market with Ouissi, a convivial evening spent with friends at a wine tasting evening sipping spiced gin, Spanish wine and the kind of port designed to knock Father Christmases boots off, lunch with Mum in the lovely Cedar farm (where these photographs were taken) and an hour spent watching poor Finn imitate a camel in his classes’ production of Babushka  ( a woman after my own heart were cleaning is concerned) with a miserable scowl etched on his face, apparently unable to disguise his outrage at being given such a lowly part!

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So he’s a festive camel and I am a Christmas Cow. Dear Father Christmas, please do not hold it against us will you? 

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