And so, this is Christmas

I had a chat with a chap today about golf. A random chat, a random meeting, but with a common interest. He plays regularly and as he spoke I could feel my mind travelling back to the many golfing experiences I had, like, when I put my back out and couldn't work for months, but mostly about playing with my da.

The nostalgic mood continued and past Christmas' came to mind. My mother on her knitting machine late into Christmas eve (early hours of Christmas morning) finishing jumpers and my aunty Rachel sewing them. My da, hanging in the kitchennursing the ham and turkey he had  cooked.

I am using the title 'Being Liam Neeson' for my year of no beer. My da was a non-drinker but I can hardly say 'Being Jem Noctor.' That would be weird. More weird than 'Being Liam Neeson.' Weird can be good, sometimes.

I think Christmas is my favourite time of year. John Prine sang about building castles with memories, just to have somewhere to go. Words from his song 'Clay Pigeons.' I used to play it a lot, still do, and often shed a tear when I came to that line. I still play it but too used to it to cry.

And so, this is Christmas.