Nine Days.

The words won't come. Take me home.

Eleven Days.

I will welcome myself with open arms to Blogger. It is about time that I start writing again, I find sanctuary in words. They keep me informed and I choose the tone in which they are read, I can be friendly or torturous. It is eleven days until Christmas, hence the name. I love the smell of Christmas, musky and rich. I like the bitterness of the morning and the heat of the porch when I walk into the house. The tree doesn't have the same effect this year. Mam has done away with the home-made decorations, opting instead for matching baubles and lights. It's not the same. Too plain and not at all tacky.

I can hear my boyfriend clicking away on his new Blackberry, he has a smile, apparently catching up with old friends. Another Christmas with him, another mass of expense and another year I count my blessings over and over because surely I cannot be this lucky.

I think I'm going to feel at home here, maybe even assemble my own tacky tree, just for good measure.