Twas the night before Christmas

So here we are on December 24th, fresh from the children's Christmas service at the family church. Isabelle dressed as an angel. Orla wore a little gold tinsel halo and a little white dress. Aidan wore his swimming togs, which he had been wearing since his swim earlier in the day. (He had his spiderman singlet over the top for that touch of formality).

The presents are all wrapped and are waiting to be placed under the tree. The ham has been picked up and the crackers are ready in the back room. The only thing that is yet to be done is the tradition reading of "The Night Before Christmas" by Grandad.

This must be my 32nd reading of the poem: I am so familiar with how Dad reads it that I cannot bear any other rhythms than those by which he performs it. On the years when we have had a Wellington Christmas I have read it aloud myself. It would not be the same if someone else read it differently. (No, you must pause there and let your voice trail off here, not the other way around!). The proper cadences are an essential part of the tradition.

It has been hot here today, a real summer's day. Drinks are being set up outside and Aidan is fresh from another swim.

I might even have a little bit of wine myself.