I might not really like Christmas, or the snow, or doing my assignments, but that doesn’t mean I’ve tipped over into unremitting doom for the festive period…
When I was a kid we used to visit my Nan and Grandad in Camberley, Surrey. They lived on Everest Road, only notable for once having a real rabid dog down the road when my mother was young and now for being, coincidentally where my cousin and her family live, albeit just round the corner.
It’s all army accommodation and they had a 4/5 bedroom house with a Mayan terraced garden that backed onto a wood.
In this garden my Grandad grew fruit: gooseberries, raspberries, blackcurrants maybe. All soft, shiny baubles the birds loved to nick which meant that he, in turn, could curse the birds, but not really. He also grew a money tree and had a yoghurt well; I think that’s it (I may need a collective family memory on that one).
Anyway, the point being that at the house at Everest Road, in the bathroom, there was quite a wide expanse of dark grey to black lino that was flecked with a mess of fine white squiggles and splodges. I used to sit on the toilet and stare at the floor and see faces and shapes in the random patterns and on every visit I would try to re-find all the faces and shapes I’d remembered from before, plus perhaps some new ones. I can’t remember what they were now, but it is a habit I can’t seem to stop. Not that there’s any lino in a bathroom to stare at any more, but there’s still sea and clouds and sand and sky and, currently, an awful lot of frozen ice.
That’s why, in the absence of anything seasonal to say, and the complete failure to send any Christmas cards to anyone I care a figgy pudding for, I thought I would share a couple of hearts I have spotted this year whilst I’ve been out. They aren’t allowed to be manufactured ones, they just have to be shapes I find when I’m looking hard, and when I’m not.