And peace and goodwill to all…
Windy and bright, friends, neighbours and guests coming and going. A hot summer’s morning in South Africa, Christmas day 2011. There are tiny whippy scorpions running about in the garage, almost invisible. I go in to collect firewood wearing gumboots.
The dog moseyed into the kitchen and had a few slices of unattended panettone. Delizioso, squisito!
The fresh galjoen lies on a slab of marble in the fridge glaring up at me with its fishy eye. Prawns to be deveined and peeled. On the stove I have a pot of butter and lemon sauce to anoint the fish on the grill over seething coals. The day stuttering into life — all night I suffered with Camembert dreams of lurid nonsensicality. Cheese before bedtime sends the imagination into overdrive.
Wrapping paper scattered all over the living room floor. Church bells waking the village, wind in the tree tops. The LED fairy lights have stopped working, it doesn’t matter. The tables are laid out in red and green, ivy trailing from jugs of starry myrtle, small teak bowls of pecan and macadamia nuts, larger bowls of oranges and clementines.
Take a deep breath and join the dance.
A poem for Christmas:
Sonnet in the Shape of a Potted Tree