Post-Christmas

It happened to me - I couldn't help but get caught up in the build up this year, and having a child made Christmas seem a bit more special. We don't have a regular Christmas tradition really and spent a week in Cullercoats, a seaside village just outside Newcastle which meant we could spend some time to ourselves enjoying the area and also in close proximity to family and friends. This line of coast has beautiful, sweeping beaches and the mild (for winter at least), sunny weather meant we managed to squeeze in a few trips to the beach. The long line of large Edwardian houses facing the sea glow with Christmas trees and people fill the beaches for leisurely walks. A number of people were out swimming or surfing, and boxing day saw a huge crowd take the traditional dip.

However, as is often the case, the trip was not quite the relaxing holiday we imagined. Our week was soon filled with family visits and the odd meet up with some friends. Seeing different family and friends in succession like that is not to be underestimated - both myself and my partner were pretty exhausted by the end. There were many lovely reconnections within it all, but also a more melencholly awareness of changes and shifts. I guess it was a week full of intensity. I'm left wondering why we put so much pressure on ourselves at that time of year, but living far away from family makes it difficult to see and keep up with people more frequently. Perhaps having a focus for catching up with family once a year has a purpose in the sense that it acts as a sort of barometer for relationships to be worked on the following year - who needs a little more of our attention; where a closer connection has formed that needs nurturing.

The morning of our last day before the drive back to Glasgow we were walking along the sand of the small bay at Cullercoats. Three women and a man in their 60s were swimming in swimming costumes only, apart from the man who was in a wet suit. We watched them in awe as they emerged one at a time, slowly walking out of the water, bodies taut and red.

Shoes and socks came off as if I had no control over it and finally I had the sea and sand beneath my bare feet. The North Sea is always freezing, and the muscles in my feet contorted and seemed to send waves throughout my body. I ran and ran and ran through the shallow waves: nothing quite beats the feeling of running freely through sea and sand at full pelt. Ula was ecstatic with glee and of course finally got to do what she had been dying to all week, and joined me, before soon declaring it was "Daddy's turn". The tonic we all needed at the end of our holiday.