No Christmas in the Black household is complete without honeycomb ice cream and I gleefully broke open the tub the other night. No need for a bowl either. Just a man, his ice cream and a large spoon. Some may view this as uncouth but I’m saving on dish washing later on. I’ve got the smarts you see. This bad boy kept me company through the Ulster-Connacht rugby match on tv until it finally got the better of me.
The next morning was a much different affair as the ice cream hangover struck hard and I got a serious case of the guilts. Fearing my work clothes would explode when I tried to put them on next week again, Charlie and I went for a six mile walk out to the shores of Lough Neagh and back. The weather was horrendous on the way back and we cut a soggy sight as we trudged back into the house two hours later. But at least the squally conditions blew away a few cobwebs…and calories.
While the Christmas decorations are still up, I can already see work galloping over the horizon next week like the ghost of Christmas Future come to claim my soul. I’m trying to ignore it and realise I’ll still be on a ‘week in-week out’ office rota as Northern Ireland enter another six week lockdown. Positive coronavirus cases for the U.K. were at a record high today, over 41,000. While the vaccine is being rolled out in increasing numbers the light at the end of the tunnel still seems a mighty way off.
Christmas has been a welcome oasis of calm in an increasingly turbulent year. I think we will all be glad to see the back of 2020 and are hoping and praying that the coming year brings much needed normality back to our lives. Plain food, uncluttered houses. You can have too much of a good thing, honeycomb ice cream being a fine example. But sadly, we have all equally had too much of bad things these last twelve months. Good riddance to it all.