What a great book! I recall long car trips with my eccentric family where I would read out loud chapters from Lawrence Durrell’s masterpiece to squawks and hoots, never realising the joke was on them. I’m the first to admit, my roots are a little to the left of crazy.
But tonight arriving in Alan’s family home, and being welcomed like I really belong, made me all misty-eyed at not only how much I miss my own family this Christmas, but of how nice it is to have a second home somewhere in the world. Families are made not born, and I feel blessed to be an insider at someone else’s Christmas table this week. Even if no one throws the butter across the room, beats pans to the tune of Drummer Boy, or plays charades till 2am.
Now it’s 3 degrees fahrenheit and I’m going to snuggle up to steal some warmth from my other.
