The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

Surviving Christmas


Well, Christmas is upon us. In the Furlong house, we have a “wrapping-room”. That is so all the gifts are undescoverable by visiting grandkids exploring, because the door to the wrapping-room is firmly closed.

It also keeps the mess in one place.

We are nearly finished putting all the gifts together in their bags – the bags from last year, recycled. Some still have appropriate tags, making another job saved.

Now we are back to the shops in our village – oh no, I mean our market town – to exchange a gift that doesn’t work. It’s pouring with rain and lots of towns around here are being partially evacuated because its flooding again.

Kendal has been terribly affected, but there’s not much in the news about Kendal. It’s just, well, Kendal. The BBC seems to have favoured reporting floods in The Lake District.

Our little Furlong problems are trifles. The flood problems are huge. Christmas is grievously spoiled – for so many people who are not as lucky as us.


Author: thelastfurlong

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.. I'm retired, going into Old Age and loving my life. I'm hoping to remain happy and well for as long as possible. Old Age is not SO bad - yet!

6 thoughts on “Surviving Christmas

  1. Don’t. I daren’t bear this


  2. Happy Chrismas Furlongs. We like Kendal, grandson goes to college there. Traffic planner should be sacked mind.


    • Quite agree – except for Ann St into Wildman St. That’s brilliant compared to what it used to be.


    • Sorry. I briefly missed the point.

      When I was once travelling down from Scotland to Cornwall with my Caravan, in which I actually lived, being a Naval Wife, one of my very stupid dogs opened the door and escaped. In Kendal at some traffic lights.
      I then went on to Manchester before I realised, where some really nice man rescued me in my distress, and then took me to the railway station for Leeds. Don’t ask about Leeds.

      This was one of my better experiences.

      Kendal found my dog and kept her safe until my husband picked her up some four days later.

      Kendal will long live in my memory for the place that cared about my dog. But then, so will Manchester.
      I only very much later I discovered that my Maternal Grandfather was born in Manchester. The one who was a Cold Stream Guard. And then got evicted from a Grace and Favour house for frequently getting drunk and refusing to open the gates to Kensington Gardens for The Nobs.

      So you might perhaps see why I didn’t mind too much about my nose and my grandmother.


      • Interesting story! Kendal is our biggest, nearest town. I notice that the BBC seldom talk about it much – it’s sort of invisible. It’s called “The Auld Grey Town” locally. It actually has a fascinating history and we once lived there. It has been terribly affected by the floods – floods that no one has seen the likes of – EVER! But all the news is about towns further North. Pity.

        Liked by 1 person

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