Christmas in Norway
A Christmas cliche maybe, but my christmas ideal, wrapped around me like a cosy blanket. They are not mine and if I wasn’t here I wouldn’t be missed, but how wonderful to know that this exists. The huge rambling, shabby chic wooden house overflowing with well loved antiques and the laughter and conversation of woolly socked extended family. Mellow nooks and huge fires, festive tunes played on the piano, glasses of port and beer chilled in the drifts, mountains of food laid out on relaxed tables, outside it’s freezing with a blanket of lush snow. Handmade gifts genuinely appreciated, not a phone in sight, nobody rushing off with something to do or somewhere better to go. A hall Piled high with winter wear, jackets and trousers, hats and scarves, gloves and boots. Little puddles of melted snow dragged in by rosy cheeked children and working dogs. And here I sit in the thick of it, I couldn’t make it up, my romantic fool of a heart is bursting with contentment. This is my compensation, I take it gladly. X
