And there is somthing about the festive season which isn’t quiet right with out a bit of that little matchstick girl feeling, the there for but for the grace of what ever go I.

I’m back from a funeral, the mother of one of children’s class mates died over the weekend leaving her husband and 4 children behind the youngest being twins who are only 11.
The church as the saying goes was black, as she was well known in the community and will be missed. Her husband looked heart broken and her eldest daughter tried to hold the family together and the boys just looked lost.

The most wonderful time of the year except when it’s not and then it’s really not.