It has to be something special to draw me away from our log
stove on a cold December evening, but last night, I left the house with a
spring in my step, lured westwards by the thoughts of good company, conversation,
poetry and food. The warmth of the community gathered in Papcastle was equal to
that of my birch logs, as we shared favourite seasonal readings and poems, both
old and contemporary, mined with love from a rich vein of literature. Despite my sympathies with George Bernard
Shaw’s curmudgeonly take on Christmas, what a perfect evening to begin the
celebrations!
No comments:
Post a Comment