The lights - ha: the tree shimmers, is covered in parcels and has 3 reindeer, a snowman and a dog sitting round it. Don't know how culturally appropriate any of the latter are, but never mind. The car-park appropriating Belen - crib - is finished and is the only one Granny has ever seen on the island which not only has the usual miniature landscape, figures etc, but also life-size figures in local dress, backed by church, windmill, stables etc big enough for children to get inside. These boroughs get more and more competitive with their Belens every year. Parking, meantime, is a problem. Never mind.
Granny slowly gets her Lanzarote mind, eyes, body, back on. After London it takes time. Vicious wind this morning has died, that helps, land is greening up a little - not enough. Dogs have been recovered from kennels at vast expense and coated in anti-flea stuff, ditto. Beloved returns tomorrow. Goats do not give much milk, hens not laying eggs. All any of them do right now is EAT. Granny is about to eat herself, having got her local soul back down at the salt flats looking at terns and plovers, bathed in sun. Warm - not like London. Not yet dark either at almost six o'clock. Another bonus.
Did anyone see the progamme "Last party at the palace" on Thursday? Granny has a guilty secret. She thinks it's about time she admits it. Next time!