Snow was falling, snow on snow...

Ooh, so it did snow in the end, even in Birmingham! I thought for a while there that the whole of the rest of the country was going to get it, but not us.

I have just been watching Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, taped from earlier in the evening, sitting as I did so in the middle of the lounge floor wrapped up in a huge double quilt, with glowing embers in the hearth and various chocs and other goodies spread out around me. I often seem to end up watching films late at night in this fashion over Christmas, and there is, in my opinion, no better way to do so.

Presents were multiple and all delightful. I'm glad to read that stompyboots got a stocking, because that means it's OK to admit that my sister and I still get them too. Much of the stuff contained therein tends to be useful / practical these days: e.g. washing-up gloves, a micro-umbrella or spare electric toothbrush heads. But Santa also brought me various types of chocolate, two sets of postcards of Roman things in the British Museum, an 'Earth from the Air' calendar and some body-spray.

Tree presents (i.e. presents from family members, placed under the tree on Christmas Eve) included some very posh make-up from my sister: a deep purple Sephora lipstick, and a mauve, shimmery Chanel eyeshadow. I don't think I've ever owned anything Chanelesque before, so that was very exciting, and both were worn for Xmas dinner in the evening. From my auntie Pat I got some dangly earrings, and from my uncle Duncan a £10 book token. And Mum and Dad got me a guinea-pig calendar (I was a very enthusiastic guinea-pig owner as a child, and would love to live somewhere where I could have them again now), and DVDs of A Tale of Two Cities (1958) and Moulin Rouge (1952), both featuring... what, you guessed? Also a special mug to make proper filter coffee in at work, a Boots gift card (the modern equivalent of a gift-token, it seems), a CD of my equal-favourite (with David Cordier) countertenor, Robin Blaze singing music by William Byrd, including one track called 'Constant Penelope' (in fact, it turns out to be a translation of a poem by Ovid), and four books: 'Brighton Rock' and 'The End of the Affair' by Graham Greene, 'The White Goddess' by Robert Graves' and 'Howl's Moving Castle' by Diana Wynne Jones.

And finally... could this be the best of all? I now own this pony (Star Catcher).

As for the day itself, the morning was spent first opening our stockings, and then baking and eating croissants from ready-made dough which you can buy in funny carboard tubes. They tasted very nice, actually: easily as good as buying them fresh from a boulangerie, and possibly even better.

Then I boiled down stock from the giblets which came with the duck we'd be having in the evening, while simultaneously doing general pottering, showering and fire-lighting. Lunch was a selection of cold bits and pieces: much of it still left over from our party on the 23rd! Then, after lunch, we were finally allowed to open our tree presents: something of which much ceremony is made in our family, with each person getting given a pile of their own presents, and then sitting in a circle and opening them turn by turn. People who want to really spin it out and make the others fume may open only a card on their turn... or, if they're my Dad, they leap straight in to the biggest present on their first go.

Finally, we cooked our duck, and had our proper Christmas meal in the evening. Everyone agreed it came out really well, with an excellent bitter orange sauce (which is what the stock was needed for), as directed by Delia. We finished with Christmas pudding, properly set alight with brandy and all (this bit is always my job - yay!), and then sat round with brandy and port as the last tinkles rang out on our angel chimes.

Now it is nearly 2 in the morning, so I rather think I ought to put my head down. Even though it's not Christmas here any more, I never quite like to go to bed on Christmas evening... After all, when I wake up, it will only be boring old Boxing Day, and another 364 days to go until the magic comes round again.

Oh: or a mere 356 until the next Saturnalia, of course!

Nighty-night, peeps.

Moulins Rouges

My sister and I watched some scenes from my DVD of Moulin Rouge (1952), which I wanted to take a peek at because it is one of my Christmas presents, and she was curious to see because she is a) very interested in Toulouse Lautrec and b) mad about Moulin Rouge! (2001). She went from saying she was glad she wasn't going to see the whole thing, because she didn't like the way Toulouse Lautrec was portrayed (as a grumpy misanthrope), to extracting a promise from me that we would watch the whole thing together next time she came to stay with me in Belfast. I certainly look forward to this, because during the extracts we looked at today, she was continually making comments such as 'Oh, that shot is set up to look exactly like a painting by Manet!', and so on. I could certainly spot several visual references to Toulouse Lautrec's paintings, but my knowledge of French art is nothing like hers (she took several modules on it for her French degree), so I'm sure she'll help me to get more out of the film when we do watch it together.

Other business for today included our traditional family visit to the Walton household, where we ate canapes, sipped Cava and generally made merry, whilst lavishing more attention and admiration on little Holly. We brought along our presents for her, and she seemed to like the purple donkey I gave her (although the wrapping paper was equally well-received). Charlotte gave her a set of soft balls which make different sounds, and are all mounted on a stand which meant you could spin them round, and Mum gave her a board book entitled 'Mog in the Garden'. Given that her mother is the lady who once read an entire book while in the loo, and that little Holly has already been read to every day since she was born, it is pretty much a foregone conclusion that she will become an avid reader. Apparently, she already has her own personal bookshelf in the nursery.

For our evening meal today, we had slow-cooked lamb, which was absolutely delicious: really tender, so that it was just falling off the bone in huge chunks, and surrounded by juicy vegetables.

At 9pm, my friend Fleur (WINOLJ) will arrive for some chatting and catching up, and then at 11:45pm I shall enjoy the first of a series of 'Fireside Tales' being read by Christopher Lee over the next few days on Radio 2.

So not too much of a boring old Boxing Day after all, then.