ALONE AT CHRISTMAS: Diary Day 2

Newbury resident Caroline ffrench Blake describes spending the festive period on her own for the first time

Christmas Eve has flown by. First thing in the morning, Susan Millington from Friends of the Earth arrived with some canes to support the new saplings in Goldwell Park, should their canes have been removed. It was gloriously sunny despite the cold, and I went out straight away to check them. They were mostly fine at that point, other than one sapling which didn't seem to be there at all in its sleeve, unless it was so small I couldn’t see it.

I was astonished at how many there – they spread across a whole section of the park in swathes, making a graceful arc up the hill. I straightened a few canes, and pushed them deeper in the earth. Many are for Lockdown Wood, to commemorate those who have lost their lives to Covid, and it’s a moving sight, representing new life and hope for the future, as well as marking sad losses.

Back home, I spoke with an old school friend with Greek and Russian links. We discussed the importance of food. She was cooking quantities of stuffed cabbage.

I had been considering having a lazy time, no need to cook today, it was a few days off. Then a Swedish friend called to give me a video tour of her candle-lit decorated house. I realised that following traditions is about maintaining culture, usually done by women, and is like linking hands with our mothers back through the generations to the dawn of time.

So I cooked the usual roast ham and red cabbage for Christmas Eve after all, and will roast a small turkey joint for Christmas lunch. I had a look at the tempting last tiny slice of Christmas cake. Oh the shame of having eaten the rest already! It could wait till Christmas Day.

During the night I lay awake with the brilliant moonlight across my bed, and reflected on the Christmas Eve night two years before when I had just been told I had cancer and must have a major operation within days. I couldn’t sleep, but the household cats took charge and kept me company, even though they didn't know me (I was a guest in the house), one with its paws around my neck and purring loudly in my ear all night.

This Christmas we all experiencing the beauty and the danger of the world, and our collective fragility, with hopes and fears for the future.

Happy Christmas, good luck and love to all.

More tomorrow