Christmas has been and gone. And just in time too; our poinsettia has about 7 leaves left and even those are looking quite droopy and/or crispy. I should have learned my lesson from years of delivering Band Fundraising Poinsettias and the warnings that came with them of their hot-cold sensitivity, but hey, we put it by the radiator underneath the window anyway. Poor little thing.
Christmas: 'twas cheery and jolly and lovely, and I did manage to get myself into the mood before the feast, in case that question was nagging you.
Opening presents from my parents. The tears spilled out in the end despite desperately willing them to somehow get sucked back in, but it wasn't nearly the show I made in England two years ago.
My little reindeer, watching TV.
Ready to eat. Myriame's mother (a.k.a. Grossi) at the end of the table.
Myriame, Cyril and I. Her poor arm; she broke her elbow!
Jan (who's apartments we've been staying at in Paris and Copenhagen!) and Grossi.
Martina and Jonas (Cyril's brother and his girlfriend)
On a completely unrelated note, this is interesting: CLICKY
Especially note the comment made by a certain French man about a certain point of pride. Those French, right? Only half joking, I actually adore them.
Time to get my freak on. Let's dance.