So, little Fanglet, here we are, safely ensconced in Pembrokeshire. Miles from a mobile phone signal but the wireless works a right treat. It has only taken your poor Grandfather 5 years to be able to get a decent signal but now that he has one. . . well, you get the idea.
We drove up Christmas morning after a lovely dinner at Miss H and Mr J's. This has become our Christmas Eve tradition: an early supper with them and then early to bed to drive to Wales. I awoke after a fitful night of sleep at 0509 and dragged your father up with me, my motto being 'If I am going to suffer, well, it will be a bumpy ride for you too.' This is compounded by the fact that I should not be spoken to for the first 45 minutes to an hour after I wake up. It is just easier.
The roads were clear and the car, which had not wanted to start at all the evening before, drove like a dream. We arrived in time for a trip to the Salutation and a few rounds of snooker (no, Mama didn't play. I just snarked from the sidelines).
Christmas dinner was a gorgeous affair and we've had a really lovely time. Everyone has been convivial and genuinely happy to see one another, which is always nice. Yesterday, I lazed around and today I am making a bit more of a concentrated effort to do some reading on Henderson, Louisiana, for my PhD. I've purchased Allen Toussaint's latest album "Bright Mississppi" and Joe Henry's latest 'Blood From Stars,' so that you and I have something to contemplate over the next few months. Joe Henry is, in a word, genius. Maddening, eclectic, genius. And dead sexy. So it is not really a surprise that he'll make up a large part of your musical education. He records for the Anti record label and has also branched out into producing.
Tomorrow we head back to London where we'll have dinner with Mr B and Miss Z, and possibly your Auntie L. We'll stop off in Swansea to see a dear friend and then on our way. Provided we can make it up your grandparents' drive.