What next?

Amazing how two weeks can disappear, just like that, and I'm wondering what I've been doing. Nothing remotely Christmassy; it's been a year of such major upheavals that I'm having a break from it all and - apologies to those of you who have been tearing around busily buying, cooking and decorating and generally wearing yourselves to a frazzle - I have to admit, I'm rather enjoying not being caught up in the whirlwind of seasonal bustle. Which has been going on since October, for heaven's sake. (I can't tell you what a relief it will be when the very last email bearing a high priority message about absolutely final Christmas ordering dates has arrived and been consigned to the Great Email Junkyard in the Sky.)

I'd say it was an age thing but the very best Christmas I ever had was exactly 20 years ago, when I travelled to Venice to join my student daughter for a week. There was demonstrably less emphasis on getting, spending and eating in Venice and I rather liked that. (Correction: I liked that very much indeed.)

We went to a Christmas Day mass at the Frari Chapel, where we looked up at Titian's Assumption and then visited the chapel's sacristy, so that I could indulge my love of Bellini and could gaze in wonder at this, the Madonna and Child with Saints Peter, Benedict, Nicholas and Mark. Painted in 1488, it is still in its original frame:

 

In the evening, we walked to the Zattere, to a small trattoria that was open for dinner, and had a meal that was about as far removed from what everyone would be tucking into at home as could be imagined. But fine for us because - and, again, apologies to all of you who are cooking for England over the next few days - neither of us eat turkey and we don't like sprouts or mince pies or Christmas pudding or Christmas cake . . . yes, the ultimate nightmare Christmas guests. 

* * *

I recently spent a day with my oldest friend and after a long walk with our dogs, we had lunch in a restaurant that looked out over an almost deserted bay and toasted 50 years of friendship. The labradors snored contentedly at our feet and, at that moment, I don't think either of us would have wanted to be anywhere else. We're a good deal quieter and calmer that we were all those years ago, when the only thing we wanted to do was to kick against the traces. I'm certain that neither of those rebellious 1960s teenagers could ever have imagined themselves as 60-somethings, who couldn't be doing with noise and fuss. When we were young, there was nothing that we liked better than a party, the louder and more riotous the better. In these, our reduced-hearing days, our greatest dread is being invited to the nightmare that is the seasonal drinks party or any drinks party, come to that, where you have to make polite conversation with people you barely know, about things in which you have little or no interest. (Although parties where you know and like every single guest are absolutely fine.)

All of which, probably makes us sound like a couple of miserable old bats, which we're not, honestly. Laughter still forms the major part of the glue that holds our friendship together. But one of the best things about getting older is that one doesn't feel the need to keep up any sort of front or pretence. About anything. And it is rather liberating.

We talked about Christmases past - the good, the bad and the indifferent - and how, these days, we think that less is definitely more and minimal is definitely good. Like me, she is doing Christmas-lite this year, out of the house and not cooking on the day itself. Her husband has already calculated that, with luck, they can be back home by 6 o'clock.

But back to the lost last fortnight; I can fill in some of the gaps. I have written and posted letters and cards; I've made a lot of soup and soda bread; I've read a good deal; I've put everything together for the last financial year and sent an enormous package to my long-suffering accountant; I've quite enjoyed being cut off while our hillside village has been ice-bound and accessible only to the bravest and strongest or just to the foolhardy (have just looked outside and the Kingdom of Ice is still there); I've put out industrial-sized quantities of food for the birds and local wildlife. And I've thought about the blog.

I've been going through one of those periodic bouts of 'why am I writing this?', 'who is it for?', 'what is it for?'. Come February, 60 going on 16 will be celebrating its fourth blog-birthday, so there has been some cyber-navel-gazing. I know that several of my favourite bloggers have been going through much the same process recently - because blogging isn't simply a matter of whipping up a daily or even a regular post. (The best writing is never forced and, after all, who wants to become stale and repetitive? Same old catch-phrases; same old jokes . . .)  It's also about being out and about in the blogosphere and going blog-visiting, which all takes time. For me, it means less time for other writing and there's the rub. It's a very big rub indeed and something has to give.  So, there might be shorter posts or fewer posts - or combination of same - next year; I'm still not sure. But apart from all this, 60 going on 16 needs a good overhaul, layout-wise. Something simpler, less chock-a-block, although I am ridiculously attached to my Bohemian Masala banner for purely sentimental reasons . . . it's going to be like decluttering the house all over again.

But between now and the New Year, I hope to write the odd post. Just in case anyone is at a loose end and has nothing better to do at the height of the festive season than turn on their computer. 

As if . . .

Comments

[Lindsay]

I do not think you are alone - Husband and I ignore the lengthy build-up to Christmas - we hate being brainwashed by the terrible consumerism. We love Christmas Eve and the day itself but we are glad to get back to normal!

[Lia]

We too are opting for a quiet Christmas. We've dispensed with traditional gift giving for various reasons (daughter's conversion to Judaism, airline tickets for long-distance son instead, a February trip to the Cayman's for me and my husband). And my recent blogposts have been few and far between and introspective to the point of "dark" according to my husband. Our word for 2010 is "adventure." And, I'm hoping to also feel a bit more "inspired." Cheers to all for the New Year!

[materfamilias]

Right there with you blog-wise, as you already know. As for the Christmas thing, we still seem to be the hub for our four adult children and their partners (and one grandchild), but this is shifting -- we'll bring dishes to Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner gatherings, but they'll be hosted by my daughters. Our place stays quiet and undecorated. What I've found with the years is that I can easily forecast what will be landfill fodder and I can't bring myself to contribute. Good company, good food, good music -- I'll do shopping in crowds for the right gifts and enjoy it, but I won't do make-do or obligation much anymore.
May you have a peaceful and satisfying Christmas Day and a rewarding end to the Old Year and time to contemplate the possibilities of the New one.

[colleen]

Sounds to me as if you have had a wonderful holiday already! Delighted to hear from you, and about your wonderful Venetian Christmas.

I'll be thinking of you when I go to watch the Red Shoes next week - one of the many cyber gifts you offered here and which inspired my curiosity.

Here's hoping you have a peaceful Christmastime and enjoy the fruits of your kitchen labour.

C

[Liz]

I'm sure we can all benefit from some decluttering (blogwise and otherwise). I'm relieved to read that you're not planning to close down 60goingon16 and look forward to visiting throughout 2010. However you celebrate, have a lovely Christmas and very best wishes for a happy and healthy new year.

[60 Going On 16]

Thank you all so much and a million good wishes bouncing back to you. Have just seen photos of Venice this Christmas and it's probably just as well I'm not there . . . http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_pictures/8429278.stm

[Bob Nobes]

I am delighted that you still intend to blog, it would be a serious loss to my ability to think if your thoughts were not there.

As for a ritual declutter, not too much please as this is part of the interest, the need to delve into corners of the site.

A very Happy Christmas and New Year to you and your correspondents, look forward to your postings, however few, in 2010

[Fiona]

Re the xmas thing....maybe it is an age thing but as we get older different things take priority in our lives. I am bored by the overwhelming commercialism of xmas. So I, like yourself, had a most enjoyable laid back affair with people I love. Your "get together" with your friend of 50yrs touched my heart. I also spent precious time recently with my friend of 50yrs before losing her to cancer. For what it's worth, I enjoy your blog, and am often inspired to follow something up re books, music etc. Don't disappear completely, you will be missed. Sending you warm wishes from Oz for a healthy and happy 2010.

[Fiona]

oh I just looked at the Hillside tape. Beautiful! Wish I was there. How about those highland cattle frolicking about like little lambs. If only everyone looked after their animals in that way.

[60 Going On 16]

A belated thank you to Bob and Fiona as well. I was very touched and encouraged by your comments and so sorry to hear about your friend, Fiona. A friendship of 50 years encompasses an enormous quantity of shared memories.

I have done some blog tidying; not too noticeable I hope, although there's a bit more to come. But I've been guided by the parts of the blog that people do visit - and those that they don't!