Moved onto Boxing Day, and why not? (see last post) Still the same location, sparkly tree, cake; same crispy, bright weather, nut roast - as is our family tradition - and, the great plus, family and friends that couldn't be with us on the actual day.
So we did all the usual things, making and eating food together, walking in the vines, opening presents, and later, the traditional watching of 'Champagne Charlie' wonderful ancient black and white Ealing comedy.
Amongst the delightful and useful presents I received was a 'kid's' camera similar to the one I had noted my five year old nephew playing with on a recent UK trip. The chunk of (happily dark blue, not pink and flowery as his had been) is as simple to operate as our toaster and regurgitates, not Polaroid plastic rectangles but till receipt-type paper with strange slightly ghostly black and white images, ephemeral and fragile, similar to images viewed in a grandparents' ancient photo album. I shall start pasting the more memorable ones into scrapbooks - little sketches of life passing, the antithesis of one's out of control phone photo storage; hardly ever noticed and subject to image disappearance through phone loss/theft/internet collapse, etc . . .
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