First Christmas at home with The Man, the last two having been spent making tearful long distance phone calls and vowing, next year, next year.
We trudged home with a black Christmas tree. Shiny black papery leaves. He sits now in the drawing room, full of black and gold baubles. On the stairs there are golden twinkly lights and burnished gold tinsel. Inside a golden box at the base of the tree, amidst the wreathes and wreathes of black and gold tinsel, there is a huge amount of chocolate, and a fat, black, glossy tree-book. For the rose-cheeked bookworm-prince who loves having tree-books and creature-books and star-books and all manner of other books. In the kitchen, a bottle of Schnapps and a bottle of wine.
Quiet day at home, full of firsts.
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