At The Winter Solstice

The shortest day used to fall on December 13- St Lucy's Day- hence maidens wearing wreaths of lit candles and Donne's Nocturnal upon St Lucy's Day- the most bone-crackingly icy poem in the English language- but then they reformed the calendar- and now it falls on the 21st- and there hasn't yet been time for folkloric alum to concretize around ithe new date. Had Sandra been here she'd have hoiked us out of the house to go watch the solstice sun rise over the sea but she wasn't and we didn't- which I somewhat regret. What fun to have been at Stonehenge...

And now the days will start to lengthen and Donne's lesser sun (I suppose he means the moon)- will be going into Aries to fetch "new lust". And soon we can start looking out for snowdrops...

Nearly Christmas

I didn't get down to the beach at dawn but I did manage it a little later. The sea was middling rough and frothy. There was a cold wind. Some hero was out windsurfing.

A couple of walls I passed had had "Jesus Christ-mas" written across their pale surfaces.

On the way home I popped into the shop at the recycling centre and was relieved to find they didn't have anything I wanted.

Ailz is downstairs, cutting up vegetables and singing along to Christmas carols.