Yesterday was the culmination of two "full-on" days, so it's not that surprising that when I was comfortably settled in bed with a book at about half-past ten, and realized I had forgotten to blog, I decided that I wasn't going to get up, poddle downstairs and start tapping out a post.
Anyway, it is traditional that traditions get broken - I think I must have missed a NaBloProMo post every time so far. Perfectionism is a fault, not a virtue, in my book (except regarding air pilots, air traffic controllers, surgeons, and everyone else like that. And the people who fitted our bathroom - they weren't perfectionists either, unfortunately. But that's another story).
I suppose this most be the most traditional time of year now - the outcry when some tradition is changed has to be carefully calibrated against the possible benefit of the proposed alteration.
My grandmother had a tradition of buying everyone the same thing for Christmas - the first one to open a present from her was the only one who got a Christmas surprise. When we were all gathered together, Oma, three uncles and aunt (including my parents) and eight grandchildren (including me and my brother) you could see her point - on a good year we all had individually named pottery mugs or boxes of personalised coloured pencils. On a less good year we all got plastic letter-writing cases with Basildon Bond paper and envelopes and a blue biro. At least that helped with the thank you letters, but I don't think any of the grandchildren were especially thrilled.
I'm going Christmas shopping as a treat between an hour of teaching thirty seven-year-olds to play the recorder this morning, and an hour of teaching thirty seven-year-old (not the same ones) to play the guitar after lunch. I won't be following my grandmother's example (can you even get letter-writing sets anymore?)