Well it’s Christmas again, so you’re about to read the Barwich Christmas letter (yet again).  How to compress a year into only a few lines, so many things to write, so little time. A Pepys type year in summary, an impossible task.

Last Christmas was easy, we left the country. We have always had a problem with Christmas since we have parents in two different countries. Complicating the issue is the fact that my mother has a birthday on the 1st January, France has its major celebrations on the 24th December and the 31st December, and the UK has its major dinner on the 25th December. You can please some of the people some of the time, and all of the people some of the time but you can’t please all of the people all of the time Abe once said; as Bob commented, I’ll let you be in my dream if I can be in yours. Anyway, the bottom line is that we decided long ago that the only way to spend Christmas is either at home (come if you want we say to relatives) or well away (find us if you can we don’t say). Last year was Boston; a skiing holiday for the new improved, health conscious, keep fit fanatical me. (as if). I am, as a certain brewery might have said, possibly the worst skier in the world, but, amazingly enough, I find it great fun. We all had fun in fact. Boston is probably the only civilised city in the US (some would disagree, but if you can’t expound simple, home spun philosophies (not to mention personal prejudices) at Christmas when can you do it? he asked rhetorically).

So, having due regard to the kids’ inheritance (as I’m constantly reminded by Sophie, now 13, albeit next January) we decided the summer break would be somewhat economical; a package ferry/drive/holiday village thing in Denmark. Again great fun. The eldest, Stephanie, just 15, is getting to the stage where playing with sand is a little infra-dig, to use a delightfully age-showing term, whereas Sophie and Sebastian (double digits in March) still like rushing about mindlessly (don’t we all sometimes). The village provided plenty of variety, in terms of activities, low cost and nearby interesting towns for us oldies. All good things must come to an end so eventually we came home. Ten days later I was fired.

Actually I am told that I shouldn’t use that term; “my position was made redundant and no alternatives were available”, is the phrase of choice, conveniently eliminating overtones of malfeasance, but in fact it feels like being fired. So I am now one of the great unwashed, shamelessly sponging off the state, furtively rushing from the labour exchange to the liquor store, getting up at the crack of noon, and generally being a Lazy Fat Bastard. I really believe I’m cut out to be an LFB. I have most of the essential qualifications and I quite enjoy the work. The problem, as ever, is the cash. So, much against my better judgement, I’m looking for work. There are, as they say, several irons in the fire, and it’s really looking as though at least one of them will come good early in the new year. Time will tell.

We got a new dog. Well to be strictly accurate it got us. ‘Us’ in this context, should be read Sophie -> Stephanie ->Sebastian ->Annie ->me. We called it Hobbes, after Calvin and Hobbes. We intended it as a social comment on the neighbour’s dog called Calvin (I suspect it may be called Kalvin since it’s a Doberman with a well documented predilection for eating minority racial groups, but that’s by the by). The nearest to an understanding of our motives came from a neighbour who said we should have called it Klein, which actually might have been a better choice... Ah well.

Stephanie has discovered boys. Like generations of fathers before me I am not at all sure this is a GOOD THING. It must be genetic. Question: Does genetic predeterminism undermine the concept of free will, and, if so, to what extent? Answers please, on the back of a postcard, to the Luis de Molina school of philosophy, Spain. As a tie break complete the phrase “I like Jean Paul Sartre because ” in no more than 5000 words. I always had this theory that children should be forced to learn as much as possible before they discover sex, since afterwards they will have no further motivation to learn anything. Regrettably it seems I was right all along. Yet another facet of the white man’s burden I suppose.

World News. No ‘98 letter would be complete without a Clinton comment, but what can you say that hasn’t already been said? I think it boils down to the nature of representative democracy, under which we (I use the word loosely) elect leaders who we then expect to lead us. What’s happening in the states is that the whole pathetic story is being put in the press and instead of being led we’re asked ‘what do you think?’. I also noted her moniker is Monica which ought to be significant but isn’t.

History repeats itself. Sometime in the 60’s an urban legend had it that a union leader of the time said, “we will not rest brothers till ALL our members earn more than the average wage”. The UK education minister is offering teachers high wages for high performance. When asked if this would not be divisive he stated that he expected most teachers to earn these higher wages. Is this levelling up or dumbing down I ask myself (arsking).

Well, what can I add to this! Peter seems to have said it all in his own convoluted way. The only thing he forgot to mention is the lovely week end we had in Milan last week. We decided to have some time on our own and really enjoyed walking and sightseeing without three children around us. I made up my mind that we should do it more often, the children seemed to have survived without us. So here I come Rome, Florence and all the major towns in Europe. It is nice to see the children growing but they do not stop to be demanding and time consuming. On the other hand the thought that Stephanie has only two more years in secondary school before going to university is rather frightening. We must be becoming old, only six years ago when we moved to Ireland I had a family with small children. I am still translating and interpreting and my fame this year is that one of the books I translated was published with my name of the front. Fame at last.

We wish you all a nice Christmas.

     Peter and Annie Barwich