This year The Artist and I spent Christmas Day at home together. Just him and me and the cat who isn’t our cat, but seems to live here anyway. We might have been alone – but we were definitely not lonely.
As we were eating breakfast, we caught up with friends and relatives through a variety of social media – texts and emails; Facebook, Twitter and even the good old fashioned telephone.
Through the modern crystal ball, otherwise known as my iPad, I was able to watch my grandsons playing with their new train set and fire station. They take Skype so much for granted, that they paid my on-screen presence as much attention as if I’d been there with them – hardly any at all, in other words. Although, to be fair, they occasionally came up to the screen of my daughter’s latop to show me a Mickey Mouse toy, wave a new watch in my direction, or to inform me that they’d left some biscuits and Baileys to help Santa on his way – and he hadn’t even put the wrappers in the bin! (So it couldn’t have been Daddy – or Mummy.) Lucky Santa – in my day he had to make do with a hurried bite from mince-pie and half a glass of milk!
Later my son took me on a tour of the decimated dinner table at his house and showed me his presents. We laughed as our granddaughter demonstrated her newly-acquired walking skills, before launching herself onto the biggest teddy in the universe – which doesn’t frighten her at all. At just over twelve months old, she’s blissfully unaware – although, when she heard me saying, ‘Bye-bye’, she clambered up onto her mother’s lap and tried to touch my face. A memory to treasure and to tell her when she’s older.
And, of course, we have each other – and I’m eternally grateful for that.