Having a bath has always been one of life’s true pleasures for me. Stoically, I find that bubbles and froth are unnecessary and I don’t need granular highly-scented spheres on a string either: just lots of hot water to ease myself down into and somewhere to put my drink. Recently, Frasier gave me one of those candles that crackles like a wood fire and sometimes I will light that as well if I am feeling particularly fancy.
In recent years, I do make sure that I have some good quality soap: either the translucent amber of Pears or French-milled, a perfectly smooth block stamped with ‘Provence” and perfumed with violets, vanilla or fig. This sounds like a high maintenance diva talking but truly, it’s only late in life that I have justified such luxuries. I suddenly realized that no one, absolutely no one, is going to step forward and insist that I “treat myself”- so now that responsibility rests solely with me.
(Which is completely fine because I am definitely going to make it happen!)
My favourite day of the holiday season is now officially December 27.
This is a wonderful day. Upon awakening there is the luxurious feeling of no responsibility whatsoever, plenty of sumptuous leftovers waiting to be re-heated for dinner and the knowledge that I may be able to actually enjoy a movie or book entirely, without getting lost in planning whatever needs to happen the next day. I can also cobble together seasonal snacks such as turkey and stuffing smeared onto a buttered croissant and cranberry sauce spooned into leftover cream before I disappear to the bath. With a marzipan chocolate!
By December 27th, I will have shrugged off the shackles of extensive to-do’s such as picking up one more stocking item, remembering to defrost something vital, replenishing potatoes because I forgot when buying everything else, stopping to buy pet food (again) and then being flooded with shame because dinner has become a desperate afterthought once more …
Anyone for fish sticks?
