Anne’s House


Yesterday, on our way back home from a Christmas meal somewhere in the Midlands, we paid a random visit to Anne Hathaway’s cottage in Shakespeare country.  And we couldn’t have picked a better day because the weather was fresh and crisp and we were just in time for the roasted chestnuts and mulled wine.  And the tour guides were dressed up all Victorian-like.  Even Santa was in-the-house.  The cottage was festively decorated with a Victorian theme – random cinnamon sticks, bowls of oranges with cloves.  Laurel, berries, sprigs of holly . . . and lot’s of misletoe.  It was all festive and Dickensian and it blended perfectly with Shakespeare.

It was an altogether pleasant afternoon and a welcome break from the hectic rush that we often get ourselves into at this time in spite of the yearly promises that we’ll be more organised next year.

So, Yule . . . Midwinter festivities . . . Christmas . . . call it whatever fits your world, it really got me in the mood for the seasonal merrymaking and from this moment, instead of fretting and fussing about Christmas, I am living with the principle that if I’ve forgotten to do something, it doesn’t need doing.

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4 responses to this post.

  1. > if I’ve forgotten to do something, it doesn’t need doing.

    And isn’t that so liberating! 🙂

    Reply

  2. Isn’t it just!

    (she says rushing around and stressing at anything that moves)

    Reply

  3. It’s the turkey that gets it … stunned, plucked, stuffed and burnt to a cinder … for a celebration of … um … oh yes, togetherness and something about Jesus, oh and lots of plastic gifts! 🙂

    Reply

  4. I know Matt. Battery-farmed, mass-produced turkeys living short squalid lives and bred specifically to eat on Christmas day. Yuck!

    And please – don’t mention the damn plastic!

    🙂

    Reply

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