Saturday, 31 December 2016

Christmas round up

Well that was a weird one. It came and went as it always does, but this time the whole event was ruined by a horse. My horse to be specific, and I felt so very goddamn guilty about that.

On Christmas Eve she came in drenched with sweat, obviously having had a fright. She spent the next 3 days stressed up to her eyeballs, with a panicked look and a dangerous demeanour about her. I worried myself thin and as much as I tried not to -  I became stressed with her. My mind was not filled with festive joy but rather how to calm her down and wondering what on earth had happened in the first place. I tried to be present for the presents.

We got the vet eventually. And then Spot, the pony, got ill. He stopped eating, became depressed and came out in hives - possibly in sympathy or because of Kira.

The hedgehogs died.

He then got a sick bug.

I'm coming down with a cold.

And I'm not sure we can be bothered to stay up until midnight tonight. But I bought the grapes just in case...

Ruined by the equines

Wednesday, 21 December 2016

Hedgehog hotel

The Christmas tunes blare bizarrely in time to the flashing lights on the tree. Little P lies motionless on the sofa, drifting in and out of sleep, having her once-a-year-Christmas illness. My other daughter, the big one, wraps her sisters presents in her beautiful messy fashion, scribbling Seasons Greetings onto yet another colouring book.

And I feed the hedgehogs for the fifth time today. Yes, that's right - I somehow have got saddled with hand-rearing baby hedgehogs over the Christmas and New Year period. That's every 3 hours, mixing kitten formula and sterilising tiny little bottles even in the middle of the night. It's just a tiny bit harder waking for hedgehogs than your baby, my body does not want to stir, the thought of mixing formula at 2 o'clock in the morning does not make me want to rescue these little blighters at all. But I do it, as they squeak.

And they are goddamn cute.

They keep trying to die - which would be handy as the festive season approaches - but they hang in there as I feed them fennel and chamomile tea to cure their bloated tummies.

It's a different kind of busy this year, with not a commercial or Christmas cracker in sight.

A very Merry, prickly Christmas to you all !

Monday, 12 December 2016

Tis the season

Usually by now I have worked myself into a state and spouted about the unnecessary excess and the vulgarity of it all - putting others off their Christmas entirely. I would have grudgingly bought the crackers, the mince pies and half a tonne of stilton and grimaced my way through the church nativity. I am the the Grinch and the Scrooge combined, I feel bad about that - wishing I could enjoy the magic of the season like everyone else.

We seem to going through the same motions here in Mallorca, but it feels entirely acceptable this year. There is a tree - both fake and out of place as the sun streams through the window.

I can't find mince pies, crackers or Christmas cards but there is stollen and panetonne a plenty. The Chinese supermarkets have provided the tat to dress up the ponies. Spot begrudgingly coped with the tinsel but prefers not to wear his reindeer antlers.

We have had carol concerts by the sea, the boats twinkling in the marina while the children sing to Cliff Richards classics. There has been mulled wine and ice skating. Christmas markets and advent calenders. 

And I still feel sane.

Maybe Mallorca has taken the Grinch out of me after all these years.