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Writer's pictureBjørk O'Hara

Could be Christmas spirt.

Sitting there watching an old movie on TV, I ask them how they are doing with their project, and they say, 'Don't be smart, boy'. So I stay quiet. I try and help and they get mad at me. The time ticks by slowly, as I stress about what to write. (I hate writer's block, I hate not knowing what to write about. However, I have written more over the last couple of months than I have over the whole year which sucks a little. But now, I will be making sure that I don't wait any longer than a couple of days to update.)


We listen to Christmas music, Michael Buble sing, 'Let it Snow', then The Ronettes sing, 'Sleigh Ride' and now Paul McCartney, 'Wonderful Christmas', with music dancing around the room, we have a festive time. them working hard, and me writing. As we bob our heads to the music, teas for all, warmth is filling the room. Smiles keep surrounding us, as we continue the job. The night draws to a close, and we get tired. Our heads droop, yawns escape our mouths, and the music quietens in the distance, almost extinct. They eat the last Danish cookie, trying to hold onto their hot tea, as their tired eyes cling to any sign of light.


We make the necessary arrangements for bed. Changing into pj's, brushing our teeth, and settling into our night routine.

We bid each other a goodnight and take ourselves to bed.

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