Midwinter

And it has been. The darkening of the soul has lessened somewhat already, or so I imagine.

The Nobel ball was beyond awesome cool. My lady for the evening was... oh, so beautiful. Hope she didn't mind me kissing her goodbye.
Got through the next day on three hours of sleep and an overdose of tea, sugar and IrnBru. Ten work-hours later... Teh keel-over.


Sonata Arctica concert was pure love. Oh, pure love. They played "Paid in full", they played... aww, love! And Winterborn, Delain... it was like three awesome concerts in one! I was awed and had a great time. Thank you for that one, Egladil!

Being at home with fox is like being at home, for real. The little yule tree is glittery! I loved all the snow, too.

Midwinter was a calm event.

Yule worked out all right. No direct fight with parents. Almost forgot the adage of "keep silent, nod and smile, and listen, never speak". But I survived.

Had old, old friends over for a visit. Was great.

Received a few gifts. The ones that touched me the most were: the book on archaeology that I really wanted, and the book number 974 out of 3000 printed called "Shakespeare i Roma", with music by Thomas Almqvist (I loved this theatre, and especially much so their version of A Midsummer Night's Dream, as you know). Also, the fine box that fox has made, by hand, that is a copy of one from 1237 from England, for which I will choose the colour. And the old pocket-watch, with a small lock of hair in, that was my mother's father's mother's. It still works.
But the thing that touched me the most and almost brought me to tears was father's little letter with the card, with 300 SEK in notes, saying "For your harp".

I don't really think he, or anyone else, really understands why it touches me so deeply.


Or maybe someone does?

My harp. Waiting for me. My Queen Mary. So, nollaig chridheil agus bliadhna mhath ùr, and alassëa hristomerendë (or some similar probable butchering of Quenya, and Scots Gaelic for that matter).