Laura Wilkinson's Blog - Posts Tagged "christmas"
Blissemas Time, Mistletoe & Wine
I’m chuffed to bits to be part of the winter wonderful Blissemas promotion. To be in with a chance of winning an amazing prize of your choice – including an e-Reader - write a comment on the blogs you visit. They’re all worth a peep. Here’s the link to the Blissemas site: mylink text for the rules and the participating bloggers. And here's the link to mine if you'd like to take part in the Erotic Enchants party too: http://lcwilkinson.co.uk. If you’ve missed any of the blogs so far you can go back and visit. The winner will be announced on 21 Dec. Good Luck!
Here are some thoughts of mine on this special time of year…
Christmas is an intrinsically romantic time of year. Whose cockles aren’t warmed by the sight of glittering fairy lights, roaring fires, flushed-from-the-cold cheeks wrapped in fur hoods, stars in a midnight blue sky? And then there’s the mistletoe hanging from door frames and lampshades, olive green leaves slick, white berries close to bursting. The thought of it all is enough to set my pulse racing.
If pushed, I’d describe myself as a summer person; I love heat, sunshine on bare flesh, swimming in turquoise seas, the scent of coconut oil. But when December comes round I find myself swept away by the warmth and romanticism of the festive period. It’s a time of love in myriad forms. It’s a time of indulgence – and as a greedy person this comes easily to me – and an opportunity to treat all of our senses. Fake fur and feathers beneath fingertips, the scent of cinnamon, orange peel and cloves in the air, the sound of a choir, the sight of a loved one opening a gift on Christmas morning. It’s a time to keep warm sharing some body heat with a sexy lover(s), cocoon ourselves from the real world of work and bills and pressure.
Good Christmases, like fantastic sex, are seared onto memory, to be enjoyed over and over. I will never forget a Christmas in Manhattan: skating at the Rockefeller centre with my lover, the joy of clutching onto one another for dear life as more proficient skaters whizzed by, kissing under the dazzling lights of Times Square, the view of the island from the helicopter at midnight. Or the bitterly cold Christmas in Northumberland when we walked along the beach beneath the shadow of Castle Bamburgh. Or the stroll through a deserted city of London to St Paul’s one Christmas eve, the obelisks of the financial centre huddled around us like monks.
Summertime may mean frolicking in the surf with barely anything on, but what’s not to like about the heat of a lover’s body protecting you from the chill? Or the brush of warm lips against a cold cheek, mouth, neck, ear? One of the most romantic weddings I went to was that of a friend who was married on a small Scottish island at Christmas. The ceremony took place at dusk and the bride made her way to a mistletoe decked church up a candle lit pathway wrapped in cream fur. Jeez, they were one sexy pair.
For the singletons Christmas is party season. It offers a chance to don a sparkly number, skyscraper heels and approach that hot bloke in marketing. Or vice-versa. A lingering snog by the photocopier might be the best present you give.
And though we enjoy few white Christmases in England the promise of one is also dreamy. Hell, snow itself is romantic – it transforms the ordinary, the everyday, into something magical and it is this transformative quality that it shares with love. When we’re in love we see the world in a new light – a world bathed in a honey-coloured glow. We are better people when we love. When we make love.
So, forget all the commercialism, the cheesy ads and the thought of the pounds that will need shedding in January and indulge.
Here’s to a very loving Christmas sex-pots!
L.C. x
Here are some thoughts of mine on this special time of year…
Christmas is an intrinsically romantic time of year. Whose cockles aren’t warmed by the sight of glittering fairy lights, roaring fires, flushed-from-the-cold cheeks wrapped in fur hoods, stars in a midnight blue sky? And then there’s the mistletoe hanging from door frames and lampshades, olive green leaves slick, white berries close to bursting. The thought of it all is enough to set my pulse racing.
If pushed, I’d describe myself as a summer person; I love heat, sunshine on bare flesh, swimming in turquoise seas, the scent of coconut oil. But when December comes round I find myself swept away by the warmth and romanticism of the festive period. It’s a time of love in myriad forms. It’s a time of indulgence – and as a greedy person this comes easily to me – and an opportunity to treat all of our senses. Fake fur and feathers beneath fingertips, the scent of cinnamon, orange peel and cloves in the air, the sound of a choir, the sight of a loved one opening a gift on Christmas morning. It’s a time to keep warm sharing some body heat with a sexy lover(s), cocoon ourselves from the real world of work and bills and pressure.
Good Christmases, like fantastic sex, are seared onto memory, to be enjoyed over and over. I will never forget a Christmas in Manhattan: skating at the Rockefeller centre with my lover, the joy of clutching onto one another for dear life as more proficient skaters whizzed by, kissing under the dazzling lights of Times Square, the view of the island from the helicopter at midnight. Or the bitterly cold Christmas in Northumberland when we walked along the beach beneath the shadow of Castle Bamburgh. Or the stroll through a deserted city of London to St Paul’s one Christmas eve, the obelisks of the financial centre huddled around us like monks.
Summertime may mean frolicking in the surf with barely anything on, but what’s not to like about the heat of a lover’s body protecting you from the chill? Or the brush of warm lips against a cold cheek, mouth, neck, ear? One of the most romantic weddings I went to was that of a friend who was married on a small Scottish island at Christmas. The ceremony took place at dusk and the bride made her way to a mistletoe decked church up a candle lit pathway wrapped in cream fur. Jeez, they were one sexy pair.
For the singletons Christmas is party season. It offers a chance to don a sparkly number, skyscraper heels and approach that hot bloke in marketing. Or vice-versa. A lingering snog by the photocopier might be the best present you give.
And though we enjoy few white Christmases in England the promise of one is also dreamy. Hell, snow itself is romantic – it transforms the ordinary, the everyday, into something magical and it is this transformative quality that it shares with love. When we’re in love we see the world in a new light – a world bathed in a honey-coloured glow. We are better people when we love. When we make love.
So, forget all the commercialism, the cheesy ads and the thought of the pounds that will need shedding in January and indulge.
Here’s to a very loving Christmas sex-pots!
L.C. x
