Presents

 Dear Reader,

 

On Wednesday this week we decided to go shopping in Marks and Spencer,  Chipping Norton.Then when we had finished shopping it was a bit late for lunch at home, and Francis thought it would be a good idea to have lunch at The Blue Boar Inn in the town.  

What is the point of this story you might be thinking, well here it is.  We were sat opposite an Office Christmas Party of ten people.  And they were not having a good time.   They all looked so miserable, they looked as if they would liked to have been somewhere else.  Anywhere else.  Quite some of the time they were silent, no jokes or even any conversation.  It is not particularly expensive at The Blue Boar but the lunch must have cost someone at least £300 if not more.  

And my question is this:  what is the point of the expense of any office party when the people concerned are not friends or maybe don't even like each other  They just work in the same building. It occurred to me that if the company gave each person a sum of say, £25, to spend as they wished, this would be a much better arrangement.  Just a thought.

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From Dorothy Wordsworth, 1801, in Westmorland, December 12th

'A fine frosty morning - snow upon the ground.  I made bread and pies....All the mountains looked like solid stone....The snow hid all the grass and all signs of vegetation, and the rocks showed themselves boldly everywhere, and seemed more stony than rock or stone.  The birches on the crags beautiful, red brown and glittering.  We played at cards - sate up late.  the moon shone upon the water of Grasmere below Silver-How, and above it hung, combining with Silver-How, on one side, a bowl-shaped moon, the curve downwards; the white fields, glittering roof of Thomas Ashburner's house, the dark yew tree. the white fields gay and beautiful.  William lay with his curtains open that he might see it.'

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Presents

I don't want presents
tied and ribboned.
Encouragement doesn't wrap
well in green tissue,
praise in paisley boxes
or love in thick gold paper.
I don't want guilt
compressed into an envelope,
with cheque.

A parcel of thoughtfulness,
a parcel of interest,
a parcel of embracing,
a parcel of safety, were
the presents I hoped for
under the festive tree.
the presents I hoped for
which were not to be.

 

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With very best wishes, Patricia