Tomorrow will be my fifth Christmas Eve without my Lady Blagg. This seems barely possible.
Christmas Eve 1987 under the clock on High Wycombe station (Eat yer heart out, Trevor Howard) was the first time I told Gail I loved her and it subsequently became 'our day'. Though we tried to make sure we spent every subsequent December 24th together, situations at the time dictated we were sometimes apart; though we never really were (if you know what I mean).
When we moved in together in 1994 we tried to ensure we made every Christmas Eve special but now, strangely, I find it's those missed ones before '94 - where I had all the feelings and memories but couldn't see her - that get me through every year. I get strength from those. The others rip me to shreds.
I was looking for some festive photos for this blog and I unexpectedly found this from 2014 and I've decided to post it here. We were doing our usual Christmas Eve thing; Harrods, lunch where we first met, Selfridges, Billecart Salmon Champagne in the Hix bar overlooking the designer area - watching people buying last-minute gifts that cost more than we made in a week - then a top meal after Hix (occasionally) threw us out.
As we'd entered the store she'd found this purse. It was pure Lady B. An 'itty bitty' Ted Baker, pink and stupidly expensive. I feigned a lack of interest - not the hardest acting job I've ever had to do, to be fair - but when we stopped at the bar I made an excuse to leave and went to buy it for her. I loved buying her things like this, loved seeing her face as she opened it. She could make you feel like a king at times like that. It got good use too, it was the purse she always kept the coins in when we went abroad.
It's a lovely memory.
I hope you all make your own memories this year and cherish them forever
Merry Christmas to you all
