Rhi Axtell – Writer

My wife has tested positive for COVID. A friend jokes that we are stuck in 2020. I get bitten by bugs while we sleep and gain three red lumps on my face. They itch and I fail not to scratch. On the Eurostar, the baby two seats down is not having a good time. She screams in protest (I assume at the ticket prices. I understand).

But despite this, the coffee in France is renewing. The raclette cheese melts over potatoes and meat and tastes like a favourite poem. In the soft glow of the Christmas tree, so large this year that fronds tickle my nose when I lie on the sofa bed, the frustrations of travel don’t feel so imposing.

We decide to open a few Christmas presents early to lighten our moods (Santa will forgive us).

I know when Julie is smiling, even when she wears a mask, by the way her green eyes sparkle.

The Winter holiday has begun.