My first Christmas in France and we finally got our tiny little tree up. Having only just finished the bedroom in the barn, the tree is perched on top of my yellow chest of drawers as the floor is still full of boxes to be unpacked.

But it’s full of Christmas bling, bells and flashing baubles. We can be dazzled from the comfort of our bed. Big woolly socks full of presents are hanging above the stone fireplace with our two cotton Christmas sacks. I didn’t notice they could be personalized, so for this week only, I am Chloe, and Tony is Enzo! I must get my glasses changed.

So the end of a really rotten year ending a few years of bewildering stress to be honest. But going into the new year enthusiastic, excited for our new projects and immensely grateful that we have a great chance to make dreams reality. Today we visited the factory. I can fit two levels above my painting studio. The top one is to be my artists garret. Not aiming to starve up there as Tony is in shouting distance for tea and ginger biscuits, but a sort of long standing dream to have a 70’s themed snug based on the reading rooms at my school back in 1975. The floors and benches were all carpeted in audacious purple and a huge curtain was pulled accross leaving us in darkness with just the teacher lit, reading aloud to us whilst we sprawled on cushions. It was a cacoon of book tales and imagination. I adored the school and it was there I learnt how to draw, paint and be creative. I also learned that tank tops and photoclothed printed t-shirts were not.

Apparently, being a progressive school where we decided what we learned week by week, I hadn’t tackled maths for two months! Who would have thought my career would be as a tax accountant? Goes to show you can always relearn later in life.

So it’s Christmas Eve. The geese and chickens are asleep and will be having treats this week. The chickens have done sterling egg laying this year. I feel blessed. We are rewarding them with a new coop come barn at the farmhouse next year. The geese are moving too, as this garden is too small and has turned to a mud patch. Grass passed away a month ago and the chickens are doing their best to scratch up everything.

Here is Plumb. Showing off her perfect tail feathers. A top chicken who doesn’t get pecked. On the whole they all get on and we have no bullies. But the new home will make the underdogs happier.

So with chickens in mind here’s a French inspired card I saw for Bon Noel and some chicken humour for all you Christmas cooks. Raise a glass of French plonk and have a wonder Christmas. See you in Blogosphere next year. X