For the sixth consecutive time, I spent Christmas on pilgrimage in a blessed location, far from the madding crowd, far from the commercial orgies and far from the disgusting sentimentalism which characterise the season.
For various reasons, it may very well have been the last time.
I am not getting any younger (but I write that just because it is a fact, not because I believe in it) ; it is ever more difficult to find a sufficient number of participants for the pilgrimage at this time of year ; and, in all honesty, I do not really look forward to repeat this year's experience.
The good will of all participants notwithstanding, it simply was not up to scratch. My high strung expectations were not met. From all the previous trips I came back, happy, tired and satisfied ; yesterday I came back happy and very tired but still full of hunger for what could have been.