There’s a pocahontas on my table. It has red leaves and breathes the yuletide spirit. I’ve put it in the cream and gold pot that was a birthday present from the person who can’t pronounce poinsettia.
On my long-suffering frangipani, I’ve hung a delicately latticed white candle-holder that I once found under a Christmas tree with my name on it.
The carols in the supermarket inspired me to buy fruitcake, and now there are two in the house.
- ► 2011 (32)
- ► 2010 (32)
- ► 2009 (50)
- ► 2008 (83)
- ▼ December (8)