Category: christmas

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‘Tis the season

It’s the season of evening fires, big skies, woolly socks, sleeping cats and warming food.

Winter is upon us, and although it’s not that cold yet, the trees are bare and the nights are stretching, dark and long.

It is dark now by 4.30pm and we make sure that the log basket is filled before then and that the woodburner is lit.

It’s a ritual that I love, turning the lights on, lighting candles in the living area and generally making things cosy. The crackling of the logs and the faint scent of woodsmoke are an essential part of winter.

The cats are usually in and sleeping if the weather is wet or windy, and it’s often both.

We bought a couple of extra chairs this week so that we can accommodate eight around the dining table more comfortably at Christmas. We have family staying plus friends and it’ll save us having to wheel office chairs in.

My love affair with old Ercol pieces continues. These are cowhorn chairs, as they’re called, solidly made of English elm, dating back to the 1950s. Elm is a lovely wood. Ercol are still making these today, but they’re no longer made of elm as there’s none left after Dutch Elm Disease ravaged the English forests over the last fifty years.

They join the mismatched crew of chairs from our previous lives around my old French oak dining table, made from trees felled in a French forest after the big storms of 1995.

I like that our furniture has had lives. It may be a bit shabby but it suits us.

We also unpacked my old sewing machine at last, so I’ve had a bit of a rearrange in my study to set it up and make a little space for sewing and another for reading and watching the world go by.

I can’t wait to get my easels in there and a work table so that I can also paint.

And get some art up onto the walls. It’s still all in the shed with the remaining boxes awaiting the walls to be finished. The house looks empty without art.

Soon, soon.

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The cold has come

In the race to get into the house before the highland winter really bit, we’re down to the wire now.

The weather over the last few days has been much colder as the winds have veered to the north east, and snow is forecast.

We are still at least a week away from moving in. Husband is trying to fit a toilet, sink and shower so that we have basic facilities in place, but it’s slow going. We have water to the upstairs bathroom now, we just need the fittings in place!

Mornings in the caravan are painful now. Temperatures drop to a few degrees centigrade overnight and even with the gas fire on full blast the caravan doesn’t reach more than sixteen degrees centigrade all day. I have dug out my fingerless gloves and thermals.

When it’s like this I retreat to the house and sit in the warmth of the bedroom whilst husband gets on with the plumbing. I can’t unpack anything whilst it’s still a building site, but I can sit and imagine. The solar gain from our big windows, combined with the underfloor heating are very efficient, and it’s warm!

Sunshiny day. But cold.

I dream of hot showers and drying off in a warm room without having to do the shivering dance to race into clothes before anything freezes.

Not long now.

I popped into the polycrub earlier this morning to see how things were faring. The temperature gauge recorded that it had dropped to 0.5C in there last night, but everything seems fine. The kale is looking perky, the slugs are having a bean feast with my pak choi, and the beetroot is looking pretty bulletproof.

I am still awed by the miracle of my winter lettuces.

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Storms and the Winter solstice

The winter solstice is nearly upon us. Somehow, this far north, in the long stretch of dark days, this date takes on a special significance.

From the 21st December onwards the days slowly start to get longer. There’s no appreciable difference in the amount of daylight in January, I always think – but by February it’s definitely slightly lighter. It’s good to feel that psychologically at least we’ve turned the corner and that spring is on its way. Much as I love winter.

Skye is definitely a winter island with its snowy peaks and wild winter weather. The year here has taught us to invest well in thermals, warm throws and plenty of blankets! I’ve recently found Vinted, a vintage second hand site that has proved fabulous for spare fleeces and wraps at very little cost. I seem to be building a wee nest of wool in the caravan on these cold days. 😊

I’m watching the clouds scud across the sky in the aftermath of extreme winds last night. It reached around 80mph around midnight, and we got very little sleep in the caravan whilst we were buffeted around like a small boat on an angry sea. Luckily the straps all held and apart from being slightly tired and grumpy we have escaped unscathed.

Breakfast this morning was a bleary-eyed affair with a second mug of hot coffee needed before being alert enough to get moving. We will need a quick spot check for damage.

I have a few more presents to wrap, the Christmas chocolate orangettes to make (the test batch were all distributed, eaten and declared good enough for gifts) and then we are about all set for the festive week. The preliminary air tightness test on the house is happening on Wednesday this week, so another milestone is imminent, and we will be very interested to see how it scores. Husband will then crack on with the wiring.

Stay warm and safe, everyone. Don’t stress in the run up to a Christmas. It will all get done, and if it doesn’t, poo, who cares.

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Christmas Reading

I promised myself that I wouldn’t buy any books whilst in the extremely restricted living space of the caravan. I promised myself. But it seems that I have an addiction that is very difficult to shake.

Books have always been a big part of my life.

One of my earliest happy memories of Christmas is opening a gift-wrapped book. The smell of the paper and printing ink. The tactile pleasure of handling it, feeling the slight roughness of a linen book cover. The crisp turning of its new pages. The pleasure of curling up quietly on a sofa and losing myself deeply in its world. These are things I’ve always loved.

I couldn’t resist buying a few books to read over this festive break. It seemed sort of traditional.

Besides. Alan Garner has just published a new book at the age of 87. It would seem rude not to support such a momentous undertaking. I first read his novel The Owl Service at the age of eight, and I found it deeply disturbing, and very powerful. So much so that the memory of the book stayed with me, and when forty years later I came across a copy of it in a secondhand book store, I had to buy it to read again as an adult. It was still a strongly evocative, disturbing book.

His new book, Treacle Walker, is apparently based on the legends around Alderney Edge in Cheshire, where the author still lives.

I shall wrap it in festive paper and gift it to myself for Christmas. I shall find some quiet moments to absorb it.

It’s over fifty years now since I first read his work and I feel that Mr Garner and I are overdue a revisit.

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Christmas thoughts

It’s beginning to look as if we have another uncertain Christmas on our hands with the latest Covid variant running amok globally. I was hoping that this year would be different, but I guess we need to realise that this may be the new normal. Husband and I have our booster shots booked in for next week, and it feels like it’s not a moment too soon.

We may have one of the stepsons with us for Christmas, we may not. His travel plans are a bit up in the air just like everything else in the world at the moment. I’ve ordered supplies as if we have him here, happily eating us out of house and home. Well, caravan and home really.

Last year we cooked a piece of venison in the slow cooker for Christmas lunch. This year we have a piece of local highland beef, and with a year of kitchen juggling experience under my belt, moving things in and out of my tiny caravan oven, I’m hopeful that there will be roast potatoes too.

I only really start to feel as if Christmas is a reality when I see the lights start to go up in the village cottages and I’ve written and posted my Christmas cards. Christmas has always been such a big thing in my life. I’m getting used to a second year of no table, no big gathering, and life in a wee space where the normal arrangements can’t be made. We will definitely be in the house for next Christmas.

However different and sparse Christmas arrangements might be this year, I am grateful above all that we are all well. Health and happiness are so much more important than any of the other trappings that we associate with this time of the year. I will gather berries and foliage to decorate the caravan, put up some fairy lights, plan trifles and mince pies to take to friends, but mostly just savour the time that we have together.

Wishing you all a stress-free and happy run-up to the holiday period. Remember, it’s about the people that you love, not whether you’ve managed to bag the last turkey in the shop.

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Orangettes

I’ve been scanning local shops for small gifts for friends and neighbours for Christmas. I’m always trying to be sustainable, so any gifts that I make myself can only be a good thing.

I’m experimenting with making homemade chocolate nut clusters and orangettes . Orangettes are something I fell in love with when I lived in France – candied orange peel dipped in chocolate. These are relatively expensive to buy and aren’t easy to find in our local shops.

Orangettes

I started by scrubbing and peeling a few organic oranges, lemons and limes. I re-wrapped the fruit to use another time, and popped it in the fridge. The peel was sliced into thin strips and boiled for fifteen minutes, drained, and repeated twice. This is to remove the bitterness from the pith, apparently.

Naked citrus fruit

Next up is a simple sugar syrup – just sugar and water- to which the drained peels are added and simmered gently for an hour.

They’re then scooped out, rolled in caster sugar and dried on a rack overnight.

Drying with a sugar coating

This morning I melted both dark and milk chocolate in a bowl over hot water on the hob, and dipped the fruit peels. They’re currently on drying racks chilling in the fridge ready for testing later. (Although I’ve had a few sneaky pieces just for quality control purposes already😊)

The residual boiling syrup is pale yellow, infused with a delicate citrus taste, and tastes too good to waste, so I’ve poured it into a jar ready to add to my next gin cocktail (like we have those so often here on the croft 😂) or to drizzle over cakes or desserts.

I think that these will make nice, simple gifts for neighbours, which I’ll pop into paper bags or small gift boxes. They didn’t cost much (oranges, sugar, good chocolate) and they taste so much nicer than shop bought. I love that these are made with the peel and that I can re-use the syrup so that all the fruit is used in some way.

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Festive thoughts from the croft

Like many people in these troubled times, Christmas for us this year will not be as it usually is.

Apart from the fact that we’ll be spending it in an ancient caravan perched on the side of a rain-swept hill, we will also not have the kids with us. It will just be husband and myself on the day.

We’re conscious that they are many others who don’t have a roof over their heads, good health, or enough to eat this Christmas. We’re very blessed that we don’t fall into any of these categories.

We will be together. We’ll be warm and dry with enough to eat. Our loved ones are safe, and we’ll be able to share calls with them on the day.

The house build is progressing, albeit slowly, and stands there, a promise to come and the culmination of many years of planning and hard work. We awake to this promise, along with some incredible sunrises, every day.

During the bizarre awfulness which 2020 has been, I count this all as success.

Wishing you all a peaceful, happy Christmas.

See you on the other side.

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Christmas Mojo

As the days tick around to the final approach to Christmas, it’s been a slow burn this year in starting to feel the usual joy for the season.

This has been mainly down to health, having undergone a knee replacement operation a few weeks ago and now living the prospect of a long, slow slog back to pain-free existence. It’s been a tough few weeks.

I know that the operation was necessary to allow me to live a full, active life on the croft, and I embrace and am thankful for the opportunity to do that.

By now I’ve usually baked a Christmas cake, the Christmas pudding, put up a tree and am onto an annoying Spotify loop of Christmas carols. I haven’t felt like doing any of this so far this year.

As we enter the final few days before Christmas, I’ve rallied a bit. Tradition holds strong, and in the end I couldn’t envision a Christmas without some of these things.

So we’ve decorated the bay tree on the balcony, lit some candles, and bought presents. The fridge is full, and the annual charitable donations have been made. We’ve got new books to thumb through over the break in preparation for our new life, and each page promises new knowledge. Family arrives tomorrow, which is really what it’s all about.

This will be our last Christmas in London and we will make the best of it. Skye beckons next year, and we simply can’t wait, but every day is precious and living in the now is important. This year is about using our waiting time fruitfully, but it’s also about enjoying the company of family, and relaxing into the seasonal embrace of Christmas.

Wishing you all a warm, relaxed and happy festive break and a wonderful New Year, wherever you are reading this from.

Christmas Mojo is being wrestled back on as we speak 😘.