With Christmas just around the corner, the Sock Mistress and I have escaped from our usual habitat to a cottage in the Lake District for the week. I’ve been looking forward to this tremendously over the last month or so and now it’s finally arrived I’ve got that ‘big kid’ feeling that only Christmas can really bring.
During the past week at work there’s been the usual round-the-watercooler type of conversations with colleagues about everyone’s plans for the festive season and (rather pleasingly) I’ve been able to trump them all every time. Most people were bracing themselves for marathon drinking sessions, marathon child-wrestling bouts or just wanted a few days relief from the office. Telling them I’ll be in a small cottage by a lake beneath snow capped hillsides just caused people to turn glassy eyed as they drifted away with the thought of it.
Even in the most remote corners of England, you’re never too far from a decent WiFi signal or a Co Op with reasonable opening times. As such I don’t feel as though civilisation has been abandoned, it’s just been put to one side for now. I have a fridge filled with full-fat milk, local eggs and butter. I have underfloor heating and a bathtub I can stretch out in. I have a Christmas tree in the corner of the room and no particular plans to stick to. That all feels very civilised indeed if you ask me.