Christmas is Coming

My 12 year-old grandson's birthday was on Friday. He partied with his cousins earlier in the week and wanted to spend the evening with his parents, siblings and grandmothers. As well as money I gave him a football annual, which was a great success as he enjoys playing football and has his favourite team etc. After dinner, we watched Life of Pi - not a film I want to watch again but my son, daughter-in-law and the three children enjoyed it, but like me his other grandmother was not keen on it. I stayed overnight. In the morning my daughter-in-law and I went Christmas and birthday shopping in St Albans. My 9 year-old granddaughter is having her ears pierced on Friday to celebrate her 10th birthday so we chose a pair of earrings for me to give her then and another pair for her Christmas present. In between shopping we had morning coffee, lunched and chatted before we went home. Next I went to my youngest son's house to babysit and stayed for the night. En route to their house I stopped in the village to have a look in the charity shops. I collect blue and white china and was tempted to buy a coffee pot but decided it was too pricey. On the following morning I was still tempted to buy it, if it had not been sold, but again decided not to. I don't regret my decision. Yesterday, the soon-to-be birthday girl came over with her 7 year-old brother to decorate my Christmas tree. She has been doing this for a few years and said she will even do so when she is 13. Obviously, that age is a milestone in her mind. She has her favourite decorations and oohs and ahs over them every year. This morning I had my hair cut and coloured, shopped for groceries and then dropped in at my daughter's house to give her a few bits and bobs she asked me to buy for her. Soon I'll be getting ready for Watford Writers' annual Christmas Dinner. I'm enjoying real life and metaphorically patting myself on the back because I am adding a thousand words a day to Monday's Child. As I write the most moving parts I am still wiping tears from my eyes. It took me a little longer to write today than usual because I researched nightwear. Mind you, I write traditional historical novels in which the bedroom door does not open more than an inch or two.