REINDEER FOOD

I watched my sister and her boys hang up the stockings. They were thick red velvet, topped with white fur, gold names emblazoned on each one.

Liam had some 'reindeer food' in a little plastic bag with a special label.

"Read this, Uncle Matthew," he said, tipping the bag sideways so that I could see the label in the candlelight. He hadn't sealed it probably and sparkling porridge oats and glitter poured out all over me.

"Now, if I'm right, I think that means I should be able to fly!" I said. I've still got glitter stuck to me, I can see it glinting off my shoes.

"So the original Greek word," said Geoff, "was actually a word for a kind of reception room, not an inn - in fact, they'd have stayed in the lower basement, where the animals were, if the upper room was crowded with relatives."

My Dad nodded, half-asleep. My sister delicately lit more candles and the boys raced around in their pyjamas. I really like the thought that Joseph and Mary went home to be with family in Bethlehem. That seems kind of right to me, to be with family. 

With that in mind, I'm signing off for a while. Part of the magic of Christmas is not making it like every other day, which sounds like a good reason to get off social media, log out of Twitter and (if you still use it) faffbook. Plus, I'm still covered in sparkly reindeer food - and there are fewer ways to feel more festive, I suppose.

Merry Christmas to you all.