Well Pip Pip Then! (And I Meant It To Sting)

I took down the Christmas tree and crib yesterday. Yes, it was long overdue, but every time I thought I'd do it, I didn't. The thing with taking down the Christmas tree is bringing down the boxes to store the decorations, the tree itself, the various figures that go into the manger. Once you bring down the boxes, that's half the battle.

So while Mum watched some really dumb Bollywood offering starring a very young Akshay Kumar dressed as Don Johnson, supposedly at college, with college girls dressed like seven-year-olds, I systematically wrapped each precious statue (hey, our manger is from Paris, a present for the Big M from my first trip there) and stuffed it into the original box it came with (I remember luggage was pretty easy as I was flying business class....ahhhh the good ole days). Then I went about the slightly more complicated task of stripping the tree of it finery. Quite depressing.

But then it's already a week from 12th night. Last year I toyed with the idea of making cards for 12th night (after all it used to be a big deal in England before according to the Jane Austen Christmas book Jackie gave me) but of course, once I'm in JB all effort flies out the door. I don't feel like exerting myself enough to design the cards (although I found a lovely picture of two masks for the cover from a year ago).

Today I fed my compost heap with red sand. Red? Surely that couldn't be rich in nutrients. Mum said it didn't matter. The rest of the stuff in the big black bin would provide enough nutrients. The red sand would turn black. I love composting. If only because, for the first time, things like eggshells and potato skins excite me. I look at them and think...wow, my compost is going to be so rich.

Unfortunately, I left my herb seeds in KL but the next time I come to JB I will bring them to plant in those pretty little Christmas-themed pots. At the moment the basil and mint are doing splendidly.

The original basil plant died but like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its dead self, the dead tree has given birth to no less than five individual basil plants, all flourishing.

The newspaper contacted me with an assignment for Monday. That sort of makes it concrete. Kat wrote to say she and Mike and thinking of coming in July.

So yes, I'm slowly coming alive again.

Yay!