A flash of the DG

I made my Christmas cake today. It's been looming in my mind just as the bowl of fruit and sherry has been sitting reproachfully in my pantry, silently suggesting that I should do something with it other than turning it over occasionally. So today I entered my second half-century of cake making, and it looks rather wonderful. And as I did this, I thought of others in their day, beginning with the first, the product of my maternity leave in 1973, when I'd sat down on the pavement in the ice and was so sore that I couldn't sit so propped my bump against the worktop and made a cake... and the one iced in the hour before midnight mass on Christmas Eve ... and ...and I realised as I thought of these how much slower I am now - at finding the ingredients in the larder, at tailoring the greaseproof paper  in the tin - everything just takes that wee bit longer. 

I waited till it was out of the oven and cooling before Himself and I headed towards the sunset to the south of us. By this time there was a dramatic cloud over the sun, with rays shining out from behind it and this marvellous red surrounding it. We walked up the road between the farms at Ardyne, watched by several sheep and a fieldful of Canada Geese, who mobbed the land on the tractor apparently looking for some excitement, or food. Arran's peaks stood out against the bright sky and it was bitterly cold.

This cold persisted into the evening, when we were joining some 10 other people from the church for a jolly dinner courtesy of my friend and painting mentor Paddy. She'd rotated her table to right angles, and somehow we found ourselves all sitting round it telling stories of our pasts and eating venison stew and fruit salad. And then we piled outside to a heavy frost and a frozen car parked on the front, and after a couple of attempts we were able to see and to free the car from the grip of ... frost. That's all. 

And now it's past midnight. 'Night, all!

*Domestic Goddess.