Dec 18

Really interesting tea today. It’s an Earl Grey Citrus, so it sounds like it should be a black tea, but it’s not. It’s green. But it doesn’t taste particularly of citrus. We thought at first it hadn’t steeped long enough, but the second cup has had over ten minutes and it’s still a very good, very posh green tea with no floral or citrus undertones we can find. We blame the bergamot. It overshadows a lot, and so does the green tea base. It’s a very nice blend, but it’s not citrusy. And that’s fine. We’d drink this one again. We’re definitely glad we made it in a pot instead of the usual mug.

But it’s been a ridiculously long day. We sat down at nine and didn’t stop again until after a different nine. There was a break in there where we chatted to a friend out east. Not very Christmassy, either, so in compensation, have a Christmassy sort of poem.

Oh, and try not to look at the calendar. It’s frogmarching us all along faster than racing demon. If one of us blinks unexpectedly it will be Tuesday. It’s been that kind of day.

The Christmas Rose
Cecil Day Lewis

What is the flower that blooms each year
In flowerless days,
Making a little blaze
On the bleak earth, giving my heart some cheer?

Harsh the sky and hard the ground
When the Christmas rose is found.
Look! its white star, low on earth,
Rays a vision of rebirth.

Who is the child that’s born each year —
His bedding, straw:
His grace, enough to thaw
My wintering life, and melt a world’s despair?

Harsh the sky and hard the earth
When the Christmas child comes forth.
Look! around a stable throne
Beasts and wise men are at one.

What men are we that, year on year,
We Herod-wise
In our cold wits devise
A death of innocents, a rule of fear?

Hushed your earth, full-starred your sky
For a new nativity:
Be born in us, relieve our plight,
Christmas child, you rose of light!