This, Distilled
The art of celebrating
Vignettes
Energy, and lack thereof
Identity
Optimism despite challenges
Decorating for Christmas
Reflections and taking stock
A momentary Christmas pause
My birthday falls in the middle of November. I never knowingly under-celebrate anything, and my friends and family are familiar with the fact that I will stretch out my birthday celebrations as long as possible. As soon as Bonfire Night disappears in a blaze of glory and fireworks, it’s fair game. (I hasten to add, this isn’t specific to just my birthday – I actively encourage everyone else to milk their own personal celebrations, whatever they may be, for all they’re worth.) This year was, by my standards, remarkably restrained, only starting three nights previously, though my friend and I did head to Amsterdam for a long weekend the week after and, though the timing was accidental, it will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I did indeed eke out the celebrations that bit longer. As the day after my birthday is officially Nearly Christmas, the celebrations basically just merge into one another and run until the Twelfth Night. Quite medieval of me.
This year has been a strange one, punctuated by sad news affecting people close to us. A reminder, as if we needed one, that life is not only finite, but unpredictable. It can twist and turn without a moment’s notice. This hasn’t changed my outlook on life, but it has added what feels like even more of an urgency to make sure it is lived well.
Subconsciously, this may have spurred me on to make the plans I have made regarding my creative projects for the next year (more on that later).
I have recently been reviewing some of the many thousands of words of observations and thoughts that I have amassed over the years. My current Scribbles and Sketches notebook, Vignettes, started yesterday and runs throughout December, and will focus on these, sharing snippets from the last decade or two. It is always interesting looking back on times you think you remember, and realising that you have already forgotten so much.
Not even a handful of years ago, several of my reflections focussed on my lack of energy. For possible-genetic-disposition reasons, I kept a close eye on myself and my mental health after the birth of Auri, my first child. It took me by surprise, therefore, to find that what knocked me for six was the extent of the physical exhaustion. I won’t go into the finer details of the why and wherefores, but the extent of the impact this had on me was much deeper than one might first assume.
All my life up until that point, I had the ability to muster up that extra ounce of energy when required, doing that little bit more, scraping a barrel which seemed always on the verge of being empty, but not quite. Though some of this certainly stemmed from my neurological wiring, there have been several occasions over the years where being able to carry a little bit more, to offer support or deflect challenges for others, has been important. Both consciously and subconsciously, core aspects of my identity became wrapped around this notion.
Overnight, after Auri was born, I no longer had the ability to scrape up the physical energy to eke out a bit more from each day, to do what I wanted to do. That was difficult, and this is reflected in my writing at these times.
I was surprised, given the extent both of what I remember and of what I had noted down, quite how much optimism still radiated from the pages of those notebooks. I spent some time reading words over and over, trying to recall how I felt, to try and figure out if it was a genuine belief that things would swing back round, or if I was willing it into reality by writing about how I knew things would get better, about the plans I had to give myself the best possible chance, and what I would do when I could.
Though I did write and create a little at times throughout this period, I mostly didn’t have the time or energy. I had a baby, I started a new full-time job, a global pandemic struck, I had another baby. I came to realise throughout snatched periods of reflection how important it was to move forward with something creatively, and that was the primary spur for starting Scribbles and Sketches when I did, a few months before my second daughter’s first birthday. The model I created was manageable, and whatever energy it took to create and share my notebooks each quarter was not a fraction of the energy that would naturally dissipate completely if I did nothing creative.
It is important to explain this, as it amused me greatly when I realised I was mentally couching one of my intentions for this next year and beyond – for I see this as a substantial shift moving forward – as slowing down. If you saw my plans in detail, you would certainly question whether I understood the meaning of the phrase “to slow down”.
It is, in reality, less about slowing down and more about being selective. I need movement, I need activity. I need to create and do. That is who I am. And when I cannot move and create and do, I suffer.
I had my first daughter, then my second, then we moved into our wonderful (bigger and older) house, which is going to take years to renovate. None of these things are unique challenges, and (with the exception of certain physical challenges which have raised their heads recently) all of them have been as a result of us making a conscious decision to actually do them. We are now a family in an already-much-loved house, that we will really enjoy making even more our own than it already is, and restoring her dignity over the years that follow. That doesn’t mean that each and every one of these things doesn’t make me want to tear my hair out at times. Both can be (and are) truths.
We spent this last weekend decorating our house for Christmas. This year, we started on the Friday night and did a bit each day. I would highly recommend this approach. Christmas just seems to grow and grow each year – delightfully so – and it was so much less frantic than usual. I found myself trying so hard to grasp and hold onto these moments. My girls are very-nearly three and nearly seven, peak ages for the magic. Two years ago, as we packed up our things in our old house, we had one modest Christmas Tree that we set up in Auri’s room (as the last room to have the furniture disassembled). Last year, our first Christmas in our new home, we had an extra, small Christmas Tree in the front window, facing the street, as well as the large Christmas Tree in the sitting room. This year, we have three, after a combination of a particularly persuasive petition from Auri to have a tree for her and Elfi’s room, and Euan reporting that trees were half price in the local supermarket, happened to occur on the same day.
All weekend, I have been reflecting, as I do each year, on Christmasses past, present, and future. We have a packed month of celebrations ahead of us, with a weekend of celebrations for Elfi’s birthday, followed by hosting friends and family and a trip to Stempster to see my family. With work events and the many school commitments, it is hard to see how we will fit it all in; but we will, and I am so excited about sharing special moments with family and friends. Not just the crowded marvellous madness, but those easy, relaxed moments, filled with love and daftness – special by being nothing special.
I wish I could tell that version of me of a few years ago, struggling with her energy shift, that it would get better; that all the changes she would doggedly try (and fail, and try again) to implement really would make a difference.
It’s funny, really. The older you get, the more you wonder how you ever thought you could have done what you’re doing now any earlier in your life. The realisation that hopes and ideas are coming to fruition is a wonderful feeling. When it comes to Christmas, this includes creating for my daughters a comparative sense of magic I felt as a child (and still feel now). On Sunday afternoon, by the light of the Christmas Tree, Auri and I curled up together on the settee – Elfi asleep next to us – and I read the first part of The Children of Green Knowe, a family favourite. We’ll read a little more each day until we finish it. If we finish it too early, I have another book in the wings. It was a special moment, as was watching Elfi unpack the Nativity, playing with the wooden pieces. They have been moved from their positions round the manger and returned many times already, which I love; it was one reason why I specifically bought a chunky, wooden set.
This feeling of reflection and realisation, of things slipping into place and of it being the right time for the right thing, goes far beyond these magical festive moments. After the best part of a year, I have been letting my creative plans percolate and next-steps take shape in the back of my mind, and I very nearly have a structure for what comes next and how I can manage it. I’ll share more tomorrow, but it is finally time for me to start moving forward with a project that has been in existence in some form or other since the last few years of the last century.
For now, though, there are cards to write and presents to wrap. There are messages and emails to reply to. There are the girls to get to nursery and school, and there is a full day of work ahead of me. Later, there will lines to rehearse for the school play, dinners to prepare before after-school evening activities, and somewhere in all this I need to finish cleaning the house and order some bobs and bits online.
But first, I want to spend a few more moments by the Christmas Tree, pausing and thinking of each and every one of my family and friends who have played a part in this magic, joy, and celebration over the years, and I hope will continue to do so for many years to come.
Find Me Elsewhere
My newsletter, Vignettes, will always include a round-up of the various digital haunts I have been frequenting over the previous months, as well as an indication of where I might be the following month.
I host seasonal notebooks under the banner of Scribbles and Sketches, four a year, each lasting a calendar month and following a single theme, which may be predominantly textual or predominantly visual.
I am currently hosting a year-long project, Simply This, featuring suggestions of fun and interesting things to do. Bursts of nostalgia, old-fashioned fun in its simplest state, and a not insignificant amount of cheerful daftness.
I am sporadically active on Substack Notes.
I have just launched my new project for 2026: TessaHedron: A Writer’s Notebook. I’ll be sharing weekly posts from January 2026, all associated with my fiction project, TessaHedron. It will be an exercise in creativity rather than specifically chronological storytelling, including all manner of things relating to worldbuilding, writing, editing, and distribution in their broadest forms. It’s free to sign-up until the end of 2025.