ECHO 25/12/05

Christmas Day

Late last night and into the early hours this morning Pol and me creep back to Bish through dense fog. We alone in the world, cocooned in our little old car, barely a soul passes us on the roads as we crawl through the Cotswolds from Faringdon – only the shadows and shapes of trees emerging and above the fog-line we see the stars in a clear sky. My eyes ache with concentration, and that strange fog-blind feeling where there is almost nothing to focus on in your vision yet motion throws up a curve in the road or a sign at the last moment.

8am – alone in the garden dressed in nothing but my thin cotton kaftan from India which I wear sometimes at night. Stillness, quiet, and the cold are a wonder to me in that moment. A stocking has been laid on the floor outside for me to find in the morning, full of little gifts and our tree has become abundant with decorations and presents beneath it waiting to be unwrapped. I realize I am so far away from the two sad Christmases I spent alone in London last year and the year before shuttered away with the noises of Brixton around me and the TV on for company, whilst the two neighbours upstairs belched and farted their way through the day. Standing in the garden I shiver and my eyes fill for the man I was and for anyone else in that position today, harbouring that solitude but putting on a brave face. For me today is comfort, warmth and sharing. Contentment and nature.