The fireplace is burning and my labrador Zorro is lying with his head on my stocking feet. He groans when I inadvertently touch his favorite spot. It's raining and my thoughts assimilate to the time of year. A special and memorable year in several respects. I think of Scotland. I experienced my most beautiful and cherished Christmas celebrations there in the Scottish Highlands. As a boy in my early twenties, still wet behind the ears, I was invited for the first time to spend the Christmas holidays in The Woodlands of Durris. The parents of old and close friends of mine had settled there, near Aberdeen and at the foot of The Highlands, as expats to do some work for the Royal Dutch Shell. He also worked as a Dutch Consul and she was mainly concerned with making her guests, five children living away from home and supporters, feel completely at ease. She was in fact the CEO of Scotland's most hospitable guesthouse. A charming, modestly chic and, above all, genuine Bergen lady who, together with her husband and family, had to and wanted to follow the erratic paths of the British-Dutch oil company. A descendant of a well-known, very hospitable and enterprising family in our village.

Christmas Eve 1982. That same afternoon my buddy and I were fitted with a real kilt in Union Street in Aberdeen and that evening we walked boldly and in full regalia along the royal road to the famous Crathie Church in Balmoral. A clear starry sky illuminated the path of the Dutch group of churchgoers. We felt one with the Scots and their rituals. Just after midnight we wished each other a Merry Christmas in the cozy church and once we got outside it turned out that a thin, peaceful layer of snow had covered the rough road through the Highlands. Like a Dutch Highlander I enjoyed my emotions. For a moment I had the feeling that immortality really existed.

Christmas 2020, I can once again experience that beautiful moment and share that feeling of immortality with friends, family and acquaintances from my immediate environment. I know, we are all passers-by in time, but sometimes, just sometimes, you don't want to think about it for a moment.

On December 31st I traditionally go to my 'Scottish stepmother'. Ibu Jopie for intimates. She has been living in our village for a while and will be ninety-two this year. A special day and evening with precious memories and a toast to the new year. From here I wish you a beautiful and blessed Christmas and a happy and, above all, healthy 2021.

Jan Willem van Haagen,
pseudonym