22nd December 2024

Today I discovered a quote by Carl Sagan the American astronomer, planetary scientist and science communicator which he made over 30 years ago and is rapidly becoming true: “I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time — when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness… The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30-second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance.”

How true this is becoming.

The day after returning from our Caribbean cruise, I picked some leeks from the allotment before attending a check-up at the Eye Clinic in Leicester. Sue began the laundry and later visited Lynne and Paddy Keene in Little Bowden for coffee and cake.

On Christmas Eve, Sue did another load of washing before heading out for some last-minute shopping. I set off on my bike to deliver Christmas cards to friends around town, but midway through the deliveries, the derailleur got caught in the spokes while changing gear, forcing me to complete the round on foot.

Later that afternoon, I discovered my car battery was flat. When I lifted the bonnet to use the booster, I was surprised to find a nest in the engine, likely made by a squirrel, mouse, or rat. Fortunately, the creature had vacated its home. After clearing as much as I could, I started the car, and Sue and I drove to Kettering to meet the family for an evening of pizza and ten-pin bowling. We had a fantastic time knocking down pins and tucking into a surprisingly good pizza. After two games, full stomachs, and plenty of laughter, we returned home to Willow Bank. Jamie, Ruth, and Joey headed back to Waltham on the Wolds, while Sarah and her family joined Charlotte and her family to stay the night.

Christmas Day. It was a very early morning start in Rothwell with an excited Alice insisting on an early check to see if Father Christmas had been, and of course, he had. Sue and I had a much less disturbed night and, after a wake-up coffee, we drove to Charlotte’s for 8.30 am, closely followed by Jamie and family arriving 15 minutes later.

The opening of presents began in earnest with Alice and Archie tasked as delivery elves. The three dogs, looking on bewildered, wisely kept out of the way; their interest would come later when Christmas dinner would be prepared and eaten. Everyone seemed satisfied with what the man in red had delivered, with wrapping paper all bagged up and dispatched, piles of gifts of varying sizes were squirrelled away in ‘safe’ places.

Not so long ago, those gifts requiring a battery would soon cause a frantic search around the home for a supply of the right type or be the subject of some despondency that the shops were shut. But today, anything electronic comes with its own rechargeable batteries, and we all have spare USB cables and chargers! Now that’s progress.

With the lounge shipshape, Charlotte set about preparing a feast, ably supported by other members of the family when needed. In no time, all thirteen of us were sitting around the table with knives and forks in hand, tucking into some excellent fare, washed down with glasses of Prosecco. The turkey and accompanying meats and vegetables were cooked to perfection, and three circling hounds remained disappointed, having to wait for scraps at the end of the meal. Once dessert was finished, plates, cutlery, pots and pans were washed and put away, surplus food was placed in the fridge, and Harry, Mia and Nala were finally given bowls of tasty treats.

Drinks in hand, the afternoon began with Jamie insisting we watch the King’s speech before any games commenced. A quiz of tricky questions, won by Sue and Ellis (prizes being scratch cards), was followed by a series of less sensible activities that threatened to give the older members of the family cause for concern about pulled muscles and their blood pressure. No sooner had the fun and frivolity finished than it was time for Charlotte to return to the kitchen and prepare tea with her willing helpers.

It’s one of the mysteries of Christmas that despite being completely stuffed with food, after just a few short hours, you can find room to do it all again! With turkey, pigs in blankets and a host of vegetables forming the bedrock, liberally covered with a layer of pudding and cake, a topping of cheeses, meats and salad was added. It’s a Yuletide miracle.

After tea, Jamie and family left for the long drive back to Waltham on the Wolds, and Sarah and family for their drive to Newbold Verdon. Shortly afterwards, Sue and I left, leaving the Rothwells to enjoy peaceful soaks in the bath and an early night. As a tradition, each family member receives a lottery entry for the draw on Christmas Eve. This year, Ellis and Lee each won £5, with each having another entry in Wednesday’s draw and a promise of greater rewards to come.

Boxing Day was cold and foggy, and it was Lee’s birthday. During the morning, I restacked some of the log pile to make it easier to fetch wood for the wood box next to the back door. After lunch, Sue drove to Rothwell to play Rummikub with Charlotte, while I waited for Jamie, Ruth and Nala to arrive. They were flying to Marrakesh at 7 pm from Manchester for a New Year break, and Nala was staying at Willow Bank. Both the Rothwells and the Newbold Verdons took advantage of the sales and went shopping.

The weather during the following days continued in much the same way, causing problems for many airports around the UK. Gatwick was particularly affected, with many flights cancelled due to fog and poor visibility. However, Jamie and Ruth made it safely to Morocco to enjoy some winter sunshine and explored the desert on quad bikes.

On the afternoon of the 29th, Sue and I travelled to Kettering to meet up with Sarah’s and Charlotte’s families to see the pantomime ‘Beauty and the Beast’. Charlotte had also invited her friend Claire, who would otherwise have spent Christmas alone. The performance was highly professional, featuring excellent acting and wonderful singing. I’d rate it as one of the best pantos we’ve seen in the 18 years we’ve been going.

After the theatre, we headed to Charlotte’s, where she and Suraj had prepared a selection of sumptuous curries and side dishes for us to enjoy. Later, the women played several rounds of Rummikub while Suraj and I took Harry for a walk in the dark. It was a fitting conclusion to the Christmas celebrations.

New Year’s Eve arrived with a weather warning of high winds and heavy rain, with possible flooding for much of the country. Many outdoor celebrations were cancelled, including the much-televised events in Edinburgh. However, along with the rest of the world’s capitals, London managed to dodge the worst of the weather, and its spectacular fireworks display on the River Thames went ahead as planned.

All was calm in Harborough. In the morning, I busied myself planting tulip bulbs into pots. I’d dug them up during the summer after flowering and stored them in a bucket in the garden shed to overwinter. However, on returning from the Caribbean, I found that two-thirds had been devoured by some small, toothy creature. Deciding to salvage what was left, I thought it best to bury the survivors under the soil and move the pots into the greenhouse for safekeeping.

Before we flew to the Canaries for a cruise, there had been some concern that a squirrel had taken up residence in the space behind the wooden cladding on the sun lounge. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t persuade him to vacate his chosen winter quarters. We resigned ourselves to the fact that we’d have an uninvited guest for the season, and I’d deal with its eviction in the spring. The following evenings were punctuated by sporadic bursts of scratching and pattering as the squirrel made himself at home.

After planting the tulips, I noticed an eerie silence behind the cladding. Hoping our furry tenant was out foraging, I seized the opportunity and nailed a piece of wood across the gap to block his access.

By the afternoon, the foretold wind began to howl. I invited Sean over for coffee and a few games of pool in the Garden Room while Sue rode into town on her electric bike to inspect the sales. As the evening wore on, a frantic scrabbling echoed from the sun lounge; the squirrel, it seemed, had been at home after all during my DIY escapade.

The night was wild, wet, and windy, punctuated only by the occasional burst of celebratory fireworks at midnight. I decided to leave our hapless lodger to his fate until morning. At first light, I removed the wooden barricade and gently coaxed the bewildered creature out with a long pole. He darted over the fence, none the worse for wear, though perhaps with a stronger preference for outdoor living.

By New Year’s Day, the weather had calmed. After releasing our reluctant house guest, Sue, Nala, and I made our way to Rothwell. Charlotte and Suraj had kindly invited us for lunch and laid on yet another splendid feast that left us both stuffed and content. After the meal, Charlotte’s friend Cathy arrived for a game of Rummikub. While the ladies played, Suraj and I took the dogs for a stroll, no doubt to aid digestion and burn off at least a fraction of the festive indulgence.

All in all, it was a fittingly eventful end to the year, one part festive, one part farce, with just enough wildlife drama to keep things interesting.

Jamie and Ruth flew back from Morocco in the early hours of the 2nd of January after celebrating the New Year in the desert. Jamie arrived

at Willow Bank mid-afternoon to collect Nala and stayed long enough for a quick chat about our upcoming jaunt to Dubai next week before returning home.

Overnight on the 4th of January, winter finally remembered to show up in Harborough, gracing us with a whole 3cm of snow, just enough to transform the garden into Narnia, but not quite enough for a proper snowman. Predictably, the cover was much thicker further north. Sarah and her tribe were tucked away in the Peak District, enjoying a short break with Lee’s parents. Their journey home was promptly delayed because, well… it’s the UK, and a light dusting of snow is enough to plunge the nation into full-blown crisis. A few flakes fall, and suddenly, we’re all starring in our own disaster film, schools close, roads descend into chaos, and bread and milk become rarer than unicorns.

As a child growing up in a small Yorkshire village, snow meant something else entirely. I remember snowdrifts taller than the house (well, almost), clambering out through the snow tunnel we’d dug from the front door, and trudging a couple of miles to school with snow practically up to my waist. No snow days for us, character building, they called it.

By bedtime, the temperature had shot up to a balmy 12°C, turning our brief winter wonderland into a soggy mess. By morning, the headlines had shifted, floods, stranded cars, and tearful homeowners took centre stage. The River Welland dutifully flooded the field across the driveway, as it likes to do whenever it gets the chance. Still, Sue and I pressed on with life.

I collected a couple of new pairs of glasses from the opticians, post-eye test tests, and followed that up with a haircut (because if the floods are coming, I might as well look sharp). Afterwards, I popped around to Jim and Bridget’s for coffee and a catch-up. Sue, not to be outdone, paid a visit to Viv and Ian for a good old chinwag over coffee in their town apartment.

One topic of conversation was the ever-insidious Elon Musk and his meddling in British politics. Like his transatlantic twin, Donald, this sidekick seems to thrive on spouting nonsense rooted in lies and division. One can’t help but wonder, have they been swapping notes with their old pal Vladimir, who continues his tireless campaign to chip away at European democracies?

I began this blog with a quote from a respected American who feared for his nation’s future, and I think it’s fitting to add another here:
“Russia’s strategy is to exploit the divisions within and between European democracies, using disinformation, cyberattacks, and financial influence to weaken the unity of the West.”
Ursula von der Leyen, President of the European Commission.