Last weekend I ran a little stand, enjoyed some mulled wine and mince pies and wept through In the Bleak Midwinter at Domaine de Mourchon's warm and fuzzy Christmas fair. We did well and and are only just emerging, both of us with various strains of the Bedoin lurgy, from a pile of bubble wrap.
We are padding to and from the post office under a blanket of snow. This morning I stood and listened to it; to the rustle, fizz, hushed splat and occasional thump of it melting......
Meanwhile, the offer on Julian's prints runs till the 14th December. It is free shipping to all subscribers on all signed, limited edition prints and a 10 percent discount on more than one. Subscribing only takes two seconds and you can do it here. They make stonking Christmas presents for all of those you know who long for these parts and I can add personal messages to friends, kids, Mums, kittens, Uncles and Yoga teachers too. I have a very nice fountain pen and decent handwriting (amazing one can still do it after all these years tapping away on keyboards with two fingers!). I do not apologise for this shameless plug. It seems an ideal time to be supporting cottage industries and in recent weeks, though often unable to see for the mounds of tape and stiff card and labels and foam padding, and even as I unpack six paintings that I have forgotten to scan, and even as I cough and splutter over one which then has to be reprinted, I have felt so proud of the creative hive we have here, and grateful that it is still buzzing.