16th December 2002: Just Like a Fairytale

A few years ago there was an ad for a credit card, in which someone struggles through various difficulties which were ennumerated financially (flight from Heathrow to Inverness, $500, Taxi to wherever, $70) to get home, where, when he was greeted by his small child it said “Getting there for Christmas, priceless.”

Then, more traditionally, there’s the pantomime Cinderella, miraculously arrayed in finery and told she shall go to the ball, and all the children in the audience ooh and aah at the transformation and her chance to have her dreams come true.

Zorinth’s dad arrived on Thursday night, very late. He’d left Exeter at 3am on Wednesday, and come via Gatwick and Minneapolis. He’s here until the 29th, when he’s going home through Detroit and Amsterdam.

Zorinth is really really pleased to see him.

We have put up lights on the balcony. We have put up the Christmas tree, using amazing Canadian Christmas Tree Stand technology, which is orders of magnitude better than the traditional British bucket and stones method. We’ve noted that the fir is a different species from either of the standard British species of trees. When we came to decorate the tree, with our traditional decorations, some of them dating from immediately after WWII, and some of them dating from every year since, up to this year, we found that the place where the fairy sits has handlebars of fir for her to hold onto.

Rysmiel has said how nice it is to have Zorinth’s dad here. They get on well together. We’ve been shopping, together and separately, and we’ve bought lots of presents. We’ve been to see the astonishing Gold of Varna exhibition at the Archaeological museum. We’ve eaten Korean food and crepes and fondue and made plans to have friends round at various times over the holidays.

And Zorinth’s dad is here, so this doesn’t have to be Zorinth’s first Christmas without him ever. They’re in Zorinth’s room playing Nomad Soul together.

Thank you, Redbird. I don’t suppose you want the tutu and the magic wand, or even the spot on the tree with the handlebars, but you’re definitely the fairy godmother of this particular Chistmas.

Posted in Life as it blossoms out in a jar or a face