It's been cold this week. Not deep snow like in part of the States, but serious frost so you slip all over the place on your way out to the car.
I've been filling post boxes with packets again - issues of STORY 3 going hither and thither, as well as fresh orders to send out, and at this time of the year, the boxes are often already full of Christmas stuff. Friday night and much of Saturday was spent finishing and printing flyers and review slips and updating mailing lists and publications lists. How long it all takes! The subscriber Christmas mailshot is started but it'll take a good number of hours yet to complete, and I haven't begun on family and friends.
The last publication of the year, Clare Best's Treasure Ground, is at the printer's. Once that is away and the Christmas cards and presents are posted, I might have a day without working. Yeay! I forget how much time the brass tacks take up.
Anne Stevenson sent me a copy of the latest publication from Candlestick Press, The Twelve Poems of Christmas. What a lovely little pamphlet -- a gorgeous cover. In some ways I associate anthologies with Christmas. Twice, as a child, I got lovely glossy backed anthologies then. How I loved them! That's how I first met Charles Causley and Edwin Morgan -- even Dylan Thomas and Charles Dickens, in extract. It was like getting treasure.
Which brings me back to Treasure Ground. . . . It really is.