I like this time 'Between the Years', as it is called in Germany. I've also seen it called Twixtmas and Chrimbo Limbo. Nothing much happens, and that's a good thing. I rarely work in this time. At a Boxing Day party I attended, a friend talked about how, during the days starting on the Winter Solstice through until the 6th January, the veil between our world and the unseen world was much, much thinner. While I don't have much of a feeling for the esoteric, I can feel that there's something special happening around this time.
It's a sad time. I was listening to my favourite podcast, Stuff you Missed in History Class. The topic for this week was Irving Berlin, composer of the seasonal classic, White Christmas. One of the many things I learned was that Irving Berlin's baby son died from sudden infant death syndrome, and his little body was found on Christmas morning. Everyone has something sad that they remember at Christmas, which adds a layer of poignancy to kitsch and glamour.
Some years ago, I was talking to a good friend about what creative projects we had in the pipeline. She told me she'd like to read some of my feminist rants, written down on a page. At the time, I wanted to write a sequel to 21 Mildmay Road. I like to think I achieved both. Although it's a Christmas story, who has time to read at Christmas? You might have time Between the Years, or in January. In fact, in the church calendar, the Christmas season lasts until Candlemas on 2nd February. So it's not weird to be posting Christmas stories after the celebration, I write defensively, in no way trying to justify anything at all to myself.
These are the opening pages. If you like them, and would like to read more, please contact me.
Also, there is a sequel to this sequel, which is currently under construction.
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