The post-Christmas count up has begun.
I calculate the boys have enough new socks I could go for a month without doing the washing and they would still have a clean pair to wear each day. I have three new pairs of pyjamas. My mother-in-law has so many tins of biscuits she makes me take one home every time we visit.
Another collection catches my eye…
I shake my head slowly as I look at the array of bottles before me. Biting my bottom lip I ponder the sheer extravagance of it all. One particular favourite picked up at duty free last summer, in my defence a couple of bottles were presents, and one my Christmas present to me from me with lots of love.
Andrew would be horrified to see the number I have amassed. He wouldn’t be impressed that some are half empty either. There were never so many in the house while he was alive.
Those were the days when I only had one – just for those very special occasions you understand or when Andrew was off-shore.
If I reached for it he would frown and tut, keeping well away from me thinking it somehow made me a different person.
The merest hint of the intoxicating aroma lifts my spirit making me smile but Andrew would turn his nose up not understanding my desire.
Would you like to see a photo of my overindulgent collection?
Now be honest what did you really think I was talking about?