It has been an interesting challenge, I must say. I didn’t know where it was going to go when I started, but it got me writing and I think it all hangs together surprisingly well, so that it might be worth doing something else with it, but I’m not sure what. In 2018 I did haikus for NaPoWriMo, and I had an idea of producing a hand-made book and I went to a book-binding workshop and bought a book-binding kit (and an online book-binding course), but I’ve never really done anything with it since. I had a title: ‘Month of Fools’, and I wanted to do a lino-print for the cover, but then I completely stalled because the lino-print was so poor, I gave up on lino-printing, book-binding and the whole idea and haven’t touched it since. The lino-printing course was cancelled not long after anyway, and though I have equipment I could use by myself, without the tutor telling me exactly what to do I just can’t get my head around it.

Anyway, if I’m going to do anything these days, I just stick to knitting and crochet, because I can do that without getting too stressed.

Keeping going at something and not getting discouraged or disappointed with the results is the hardest thing for me. I suppose that is one of the themes of my NaPoWriMo (I can’t quite decide if it’s a long poem with 30 stanzas, or a cycle of 30 individual poems, or how to describe it). It’s all very well to write about grasping the flame and letting it burn you again and again, but that’s just a poetic metaphor, and I’m such a coward. I could say to myself: ‘I managed to stick at that, and I’m quite pleased with the result, so why not try something else, like going back to lino printing, or doing this book, or going back to my novel…?’ but, but, but… I’m such a coward. And yesterday, for example, by the time I’d posted the poem, I couldn’t face writing a post for here as well.

None of this is important, I know that. Nothing I do matters, I could not write another word as long as I live, and the world would be no worse off.

Yesterday I went back to the jigsaw puzzle I started in last year’s lockdown and haven’t touched since goodness knows when. I made quite good progress, too.  

First time I’ve had Christmas in my own home for ten years. Not the first time I’ve blogged on Christmas Day but I can’t really think of what to say. Earlier I could, but now I’m not so sure. I think I’ll just go and get breakfast.

I feel I should write something to explain how I feel, except that… I don’t think I can express it very well. I can say I’m fine, and really I think I am, and the more I say on that theme, probably the less convincing it will seem, so maybe it’s best to say nothing.

I’m expecting Skype calls with both families today, and I got a turkey crown yesterday in the Co-op – not the same Co-op that had the sign saying none of their stores were selling turkeys, but my usual one. So I bought it though it will serve six, and the steak is consigned to the freezer!

I decided I needed some lights for my tiny little tree (which is about as long as between my elbow and hand), so on Tuesday I had a look for the box with all the Christmas stuff in the cupboard under the stairs – it wasn’t there, but I did find a large plastic folder with some of my artistic efforts from a few years back, lino prints and drink-and-draw sessions and some feeble attempts at watercolour from years earlier. I found a couple of poems scribbled on pages in sketchbooks too, neither of which I think had ever been typed up or turned into anything. I was going to blog one of them with the awful picture it came with, but didn’t get round to it.

As I couldn’t find the box, on Wednesday I ventured up into the loft. Getting the ladder down is enough of a challenge, but I did that and got my head into the loft, where I could see the box I wanted without going through the hatch, so pulled it towards me, then had to turn it end on to get it through, then tried to go down the steps, but couldn’t hold the box, thought I was going to trap my arm, then that I would trap my fingers, then let the box fall, then lost my balance and fell myself (from about halfway up the ladder). Plastic box shattered with a mighty crash, shards of red plastic (and glitter) everywhere, but miraculously, a set of four glass tumblers in a cardboard carton were intact, as were two boxes of glass baubles from Prague. The only casualty seemed (at first sight) to be a tree topper star which lost one of its arms, and was no great loss, but later I discovered that one of the banister posts had broken in the middle, which I guess must have been caused by my body rolling into it – I don’t remember that happening, but nothing else heavy enough got that close.

But my tree has lights.