Christmas Catch-up Part 2

With the arrival of the Morrisons mega shop, I find I have gone from being rather late for Christmas to suddenly being just a tad too early - according to all the use-by dates on my groceries.

So early, in fact, that we need to eat our dessert on 21st December (plus an awful lot of fish), the green vegetables by the 22nd, the roast vegetables by the 23rd and our chicken by Christmas Eve.

Suddenly, I find we're just a tad too early!

Three Silver Linings

Not the usual way to tackle Christmas dinner, I'll grant you, but I see three silver linings here: one, all the calories get spread out over several days; two, we can go all continental and sophisticated and eat our main meal on Christmas Eve (OK, minus some of the conventional accompaniments); and three, Christmas Day itself will be a feast of leftovers (to be eaten in pyjamas with the already secured ice cream and chocolate, as mentioned in previous post). Result!

Christmas Day will now be a feast of leftovers

And as I take all of this in, I find I am left with a lovely floaty feeling of ease, a lightness of being and a bit of a chuckle that comes as quite a surprise. My Christmas arrangements continue to be decidedly dodgy (wonky, indeed) but it feels absolutely OK.

A lovely floaty feeling of ease

A general sense of shift

Three Good Fairy moments

To add to the general sense of shift since my last post, a few hopeful helpful things have quite unexpectedly happened.

1. Red chariot physio visit

Euan was a hugely skilled driver, one of the few who make it into the Institue of Advanced Drivers. He loved driving. He loved his powerful cars. But in February 2020 all that came to an end and Euan finally had to relinquish his licence to blasted Mr P. It was a very sad day, and it's been a very sad year - the loss of independence, the frustration, the limitation. To add to Euan's woes, he has found walking more and more difficult this year, and managing his electric bike on a busy prom is out of the question.

But, last Friday, in the midst of all our Christmas and wider woes, enter lovely Marie, our Community Physiotherapist Good Fairy - with a chariot! She showed Euan how to set it up and be safe, they took a scoot around the garden together, indulging the newly built ramp on our patio and generally had a huge amount of fun together.

A champion chariot!

Suddenly Euan is able to walk tall again, and you can see the absolute delight in his face as he reconnects with his able self and senses the potential, the not-so-open road opening up once more. Thank you, clever, clever Marie, for rescuing my stooped and despondent Boy.

The not-so-open road opening up once more

2. A red chariot of his own

Our lovely Sally happened to be visiting at the same time as the physio and was also mightily impressed by the chariot trial. The very next day, on a charity shop trawl for other items to help us with a different project, she spotted the very same machine at a very nifty price. After a quick phone call to discuss - there was no discussion - back she came with an early Christmas present for Euan. Woohoo! An obstacle course was set up on the drive and Euan was off!

The Good Trifle Fairy calls

3. An unexpected bag of trifle

While she was with us, Sally noted the random nature of our Christmas grocery delivery and asked if I wanted any gaps to be plugged. No, says I, not at all, I am happy to improvise. Imagine my surprise when I went to close up the porch only to find a huge bag of assorted ingredients to rescue my plan for a chocolate orange trifle!! Such a Good Fairy thing to do - slipped in, unannounced, helping to make sure we have a bit of Christmas cheer as originally planned. There is enough for two trifles, and each trifle in Granny's trifle bowl could feed sixteen, so it's probably just as well Sally has had to postpone her trip to France to see her parents - she'll be needed to help us eat it all!!

Three lessons learned

1. I have realised the importance of asking for help. We were struggling with the increasing interference of Mr P in daily living, and in desperation called on the services of Joanne, a senior OT, who helped us enormously and also connected us with Marie. The results have been literally life-changing for both of us over the last few weeks. Hurrah for the NHS!

2. I have seen the benefit of accepting help. It was when Sally said, "I'd like to do some ironing for you" and I realised I had to say, "Yes please," that I knew I had reached an significant turning point - a point of acquiescence and a point of rescue. Thank you, Sally, for scooping me up so gently.

I have seen the benefit of asking for help and giving myself permission to fail

3. I have seen the benefit of giving myself permission to fail, and realised that lots of good things have come out of that. Sharing my stresses with Euan resulted in him making wonderfully freeing suggestions about ways to take some festive shortcuts. And sharing my previous blog post led to one of our Mr P community realising that if her Christmas cake was being baked on Hogmanay it really didn't matter - such deep reassurances that we can give each other.

And is it failure, or is it just adapting and doing things differently in the face of great challenges?

Three things to be grateful for

Our world is set to open up and open out

1. The arrival of the chariot means our world, after so many months of closing in and shutting down (due to Mr P far more than Covid, TBH), is now set to open up and open out. We can go walking together, further and for longer and to more places. Euan will start to regain his stamina and strength and confidence, and we will both become fitter again.

A new tradition

2. The compression and chaos that Mr P has caused in our household this Christmas has led to what could become a new tradition. I haven't had time to deal with the festive post this last couple of weeks, so yesterday afternoon we sat down together in the garden room, next to the second Christmas tree (another miracle!) with some gentle Christmas music and opened and read each card together, side by side. We thought and talked about each of the senders with a lovely sense of connection and, for the first time in years, the cards became really meaningful and manageable. Definitely something to be grateful for!

Gentle days and slow ways

3. Mr P has actually required us to reset the clocks and find a different pace for Christmas, and I am now actually looking forward to the next week or so of gentle days and slow ways. I will finish off some tasks without a feeling of driven pressure, and we will share our garden with friends in socially distanced huddles around the old chiminea.

We have a chance to get back on an even keel now in the deepest depths of winter, recharging our stores of energy so that we can emerge and bloom once again.

There's still the small matter of the large double helping of skin-on cod fillets (previously frozen, enough to feed eight), and the large pack of no-freeze peppered mackerel, all with a use-by date of 21st December....Anyone fancy cod with lime spiced lentils and leek and mackerel risotto round the chiminea tonight?? With large helpings of trifle???...Or maybe we should start a fish food take away - with delivery by red chariot!

Merry Christmas everyone xx

Do let me know how you fare through Christmas. I know there will be lots of challenges, and it's not always easy to find silver linings. It's OK not to be OK, but I hope it's the best it can be xx