Hit List

This year I really did not want anything for Christmas. It seemed particularly unfair if below the tree lay a pile of presents for me, whilst my children had donated theirs to orphans in Haiti. So I asked everyone for nothing.

Now normally David is quite good at giving nothing and this does not stem from an ungenerous soul, its more from an unorganized gene and like most men, on or around the 22nd of December, they think “Help… it’s Christmas”

Most men are able to then pop down the high street in a panic. David does not have that luxury. We don’t have a high street. So you may imagine my surprise when this year, of all years, there are several large box’s, beside the tree, inside of which was a mass of Victorian dinner plates, discovered by David on a remnants website.

As family and friends invaded for lunch, our table, laid up under the whispering palms, had never looked quite so…well Christmassy.
The other delight I received was this book. The English in the West Indies. Published in 1880. With its fabulous bamboo lettering in hip chocolate brown and pale blue and the fairly indistinguishable illustration of Port Royal.

I don’t think I will dare to actually read what’s written inside as I have a feeling I won’t like it. But I will cherish this little treasure and the thought that went into buying it.

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