I spent a week at Narooma with the kids between Christmas and New Year last year. It was a strange holiday marking the beginning of the end in so many ways. We had spent 13 years of Christmas holidays in that same camping ground where the kids had learnt to ride their two-wheelers and to roller blade and where I had lounged around and devoured many books. But last year was the first without being a family and it was sad and uncomfortable by turns, and there was a need to try and put on a facade of normalcy for my two daughters in particular.
They are still going this coming Christmas, at least I hope they are. E said to me a couple of weeks ago that L didn't want to go but that wasn't fair, because she still wanted to and why should her brothers and sister get to choose the time when they stopped coming but she didn't. I said that I would continue to take her if her mother didn't want to because once they give up the camp site they will never get it back.
Anyway, for the most part Christmas last year sucked, and it's been an even bigger year emotionally this year than last in some ways. At the moment I feel tired and just want to take some time off to relax. So I think in early December I'm gonna take off to Tasmania for a week, just drive around, do a few bushwalks that are neither too long nor too strenuous and take a lot of photos. I can't go any earlier because some of my staff will already be away.
That's the plan anyway and it's good to have some plans.