Our little Christmas break in Scotland was just the thing.
You’ve gotta love a hotel room with crenellations.

And a view of a ruined abbey.

This was us, in the turret underneath the weather vane. Yes, I got to spend Christmas in a turret. How lucky am I? Especially as I got to have my prince in there with me.

Scotland is excellent at gates.

And walls.

And trees.

Here’s my favourite tree.

And here’s my prince, wearing his Chrismas knits. (I’m not sure where he got the sun tan. Or where I got so pale. That’s writing books for you, I guess.)

Here’s my Christmas pudding – after all of the traditional turkey, I opyed for ‘A Taste Of Christmas’ -

- which involved nutmeg custard, gingerbread, star anise foam, a poached pear, ’snow’, and mulled wine marshmallow. One of my favourite puddings ever. (But just so you don’t go away thinking I’m classy, I also very much enjoyed my Christmas Eve dessert, Toffee Baileys Sundae, which you can replicate as follows: Take a tall sundae glass. Add balls of toffee ice cream. Pour Baileys liquer into all of the spaces between the glass and the ice cream. Eat, and feel a bit squiffy.)

It really was a glorious Christmas, and I enjoyed every minute. When we got home, one of the first things I did was find a place for my gift from Jude, in our porch:

Ned and Joy arrive back from Christmas with their Dad tonight. So one of the loveliest things of all is that Christmas isn’t quite over yet.

(Oh, and I don’t think anyone said cancer, at all, ever, the whole time. And not in a ‘don’t mention the war’ way. It just didn’t come up.)