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December 2010

splashing around
It’s part of the Boxing Day archetype, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s filthy hot or bucketing down rain (like this year). In fact, it’s even better if it’s raining because it makes the whole experience like something out of a theme park. If you don’t have a backyard pool, make friends or family with people who do and invite yourself over for the ritual post-Christmas chill-out barbecue.

PS. We do realise Boxing Day isn’t always on a Sunday, but appreciate that the barbecue-pool tradition is well suited to our favourite day of the week.
PPS. Merry Christmas! teganandemma, xx

the christmas angel
It’s the silly season – this we know well – but as easy as it is to get caught up in the madness it will be of huge benefit to you (and everyone who has to deal with you) if you look after yourself. Sleep well, nourish the body with wholesome food, and take time to relax, if even for a moment. Check out the lovely treatments available at Black Dove Body Bar. Treat yourself! It is Christmas, after all.

summer loving
beach n. The shore of a body of water, especially when sandy or pebbly.
We don’t have too much wisdom to impart for this one. Head to the beach, any old beach, and do whatever. It’s bound to be okay, maybe even great.

a crafty affair
There’s a few reasons why you should spend Sunday afternoon crafting away, making cards and pretty little so and sos.
1. It’s pun worthy. Say “Hey, hey, it’s crafternoon!”
2. It’s an indoors activity, which suits this endless wet weather just fine.
3. You can multitask and eat and drink your way through it.
4. It’s freakin cool. If you don’t believe us, just ask Grandma.

The angel enters the cave, his arms stretched in front of him, palms towards the ceiling. In each hand sits a smooth stone, black and polished, glinting softly in the candlelight. He moves towards the body in the centre of the space. He places the two stones on the bare body, at the centre of the spine. Close your eyes, he says. Just relax.
It dates back to ancient times, the use of heated flat stones to massage the body. And of course they had their worries then, ones that would tighten the muscles and rouse the nerves. But this woman she needs this more than the pharaohs or the emperors, the charging men on horses and gnarled-handed slaves. She has endured twelve hours of crowds and furious shopping. Her toes are trampled. Her back is crooked. Earlier she was weeping, although now she is just laying stiffly, her head turned to the side with one cheek pressed into the table.
The angel pushes his hands into her warm skin, rolls the heel of his palms into her flesh and presses hard.
At last she has a pulse! Her blood begins to flow freely, surges in around her nerves, nurturing them, quelling them.  It is Christmas at last.
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