Weird happenings

Stables are for shepherds, herdsmen and animals, right?  So why is there an angel on top of mine?  And a star, for heaven's sake.  What is the world coming to?!

I've got severe problems with moving anywhere at the moment, even around the house so where the magi get to is anyone's guess.  However, yesterday I found them in the wetroom on my shower stool.  Obviously they have mountaineering abilities which I had never suspected.  Perhaps they are desperate for a shower - I don't know.

Next visit Monday!

Carol singers

 

When I was a child carol singers were around every night after about 12th December. It would be groups of about four children who would sing two or three carols, always ending with "We wish you a merry Christmas" and ringing the doorbell in the hope that they would get a few coppers.  

There was also the carol singing with the school choir when fifty or sixty of us would sing unaccompanied but with great harmonies, and we would get rather larger donations for a local children's home.  

I feel a bit sad that the only "carol singing" that I have heard this year was our local Lions who come around with Santa on a "sleigh" and very loud recorded music.  

I would hate to see the groups of three or four children going around without adults these days, but somehow I feel sad that the old tradition of carol singing has disappeared.   Is it the same where you live?

(Sorry, distinctly unwell so finding it hard to create a post.)

Have the magi been reading my blog?

Maybe I shouldn't have written a post about food yesterday.  The magi have gone on their travels and have arrived in the fridge!  Fortunately most of the Christmas goodies haven't arrived yet or I would fear for my supplies.  

At the stable another sheep has arrived.  Two shepherds and a chap with a lantern are hardly overworked even then.  

What can be happening?  Come back on Friday for the next thrilling installment.

Food, glorious food!

I have been making and revising my Sainsbury order all week.  And thinking about how things were when I was a child.

The centre piece of Christmas eating was always a turkey.  It was the only time of the year that we ate turkey and after a few days of turkey sandwiches, casserole, curry, soup we were glad it was the only time of the year we had turkey.  A huge bird would arrive from the butchers ready plucked but Mother preferred to draw it herself and then make stock from the giblets for the gravy. A piece of ham would be the gift of my grandparents who would come from their farm to join us for lunch.  

Vegetables were from the garden.  Brussels sprouts, carrots, red cabbage and runner beans which would have been salted in the summer.  The pickles and chutneys would also be largely made from garden veg and would have been maturing a while.  

Mother would have made the pudding, the cake and mincemeat well in advance.  She made her own pastry, puff and shortcrust, but at Christmas she often bought bread.

I too will have turkey, but just a turkey thigh which I will stuff with sausagemeat and wrap with bacon.  The vegetables will come from Sainsbury and will include carrots, sprouts and cabbage but also frozen peas rather than salted beans.  I've made my own pudding and cake but will buy either mincemeat and ready-rolled pastry and ready-made mince pies.  There will be treats too like smoked salmon, fresh orange juice, and some charcuterie meats.

And I shall be very grateful that I have a freezer so I don't have to waste any of those delicious leftovers!

Arrivals and departures.

 The stable seems very well staffed with three shepherds.  That seems a little excessive for the number of animals but maybe they've all decided that the fire looked a little tempting so they've gathered around it.

There is no sign of the fancy chaps anywhere near the stable.  Where can they be?

Oh that's where they are!  They've toddled off to admire my flowers.  The three blokes are having a bit of a chat and two of the animals look like they've gone far enough even if one animal looks ready for anything.

What can be happening?

Next thrilling installment on Wednesday

Waiting

I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels but I do know that I am very tired.  I’m so tired that I don’t know what to do with myself.

We’ve been on the road for three days now and it will be another four days at least until we reach Bethlehem.  We’ve got to go to Bethlehem because the emperor wants to count us.  Crazy!

These last nine months have been frightening.  I'd always thought it would be fantastic to be special to God but sometimes I’ve felt as though I was living through a nightmare.  It was OK all those months ago when that angel came. In fact, it was more than OK, it was brilliant!  I suppose I was swept along by the moment but you know, even after everything that’s been happening, I’m still glad I said yes.  I was a bit scared but you can’t say no to God, can you?  But when the angel had gone reality set in.

The mornings were worst.  That’s when I was being sick.  At first I didn’t know why but before long I realised that the angel had been no dream.  I was expecting a baby.

I’ll never forget the day I told my mum about the baby.  It was awful.  She wept and she shouted at me and she pleaded with me to name the father but when I named The Father she wouldn’t believe me.  She hadn’t seen the angel so why should she?  She thought some man had been with me. 

Then she told my dad and that was even worse.  I think I’ve always been special to him and he was stunned.  He couldn’t speak to me or even look at me.  He was just so ashamed of me.

Then he had to tell Joseph.  I think he hoped that Joseph was the father but no-one knew better than Joe that he wasn’t.  My lovely Joe.  How could I hurt him so much?  He was distraught but he loves me so much that although he wouldn’t marry me he wouldn’t make a song and dance about it.

Then he had his dream and that changed everything.  At last someone believed me.  I wasn’t alone any longer.  Someone else was in on God’s plan.

He went to see my mum and dad again and told them he had changed his mind again and he wanted to marry me and he thought it would be a good idea if we were wed as soon as possible before people started to notice me so that’s what we did.  Then we went to see Elizabeth so I could help her while she had her baby.  Aunt Lizzie has always been a bit snooty and I knew she wouldn’t pass by on the opportunity to lord it over me.  Her baby was a special gift from God too as quite honestly she was past it.  Anyway, Joe came with me to hold my hand and help me face the music. 

You could have knocked me down with a feather when she came rushing out of the house shouting, “Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come and visit me?” 

And that changed me too.  When my angel had told me what was going to happen all I could say was, “OK, whatever God wants is fine by me”.  But went Aunt Lizzie was like that it suddenly seemed like it would be all right and I started shouting too, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour”. 

I stayed with Aunt Lizzie for quite a few weeks.  We got really close and maybe when my baby is born he’ll be able to spend time with her boy.  Joe went home but came and fetched me back and we started our married life together.  My mum and dad don’t know what to make of it all but we’re happy, they’re happy.  Sort of.

But now we’ve got to go on this journey to Bethlehem and that’s where my baby will be born.  I’d hoped I could have been at home with my mum to help me but it will have to be with strangers.  Nothing seems to be easy when you are part of God’s plan but maybe he’s got it all worked out.

(This is something I posted originally in 2015)

 

An evening out

 One of the churches where I occasionally take a service has a lovely fund raising evening each year when about fifteen ladies meet to make wreaths for our front doors.  Everyone takes greenery and bits and pieces to make the wreaths and delicious snacky bits to eat and the evening goes with a swing.  This is my effort.  

And they have a raffle included in the cost of the evening.  I had my second win of the week: a lovely flower arrangement!

The world spins!

 Men and beasts are all feeling a little dizzy today.  The stable and its surrounds (which they all trusted), have turned around on their base so that cupboards thirteen to twenty-four now face front.  Somehow another sheep  has appeared (that shepherd really needed a little more to do) and a third fancy cove has appeared so we have three animals and three blokes.  They might be going on their travels as all the animals are carrying stuff although only one looks ready for action.

Come back Monday for another thrilling installment!

A Rather Nice Win

 Yesterday I was out to lunch with my Women's Institute and I came home with some rather nice raffle winnings.  Our tradition is that everyone chips in to create some wonderful hampers.  Mine contained chocolate panettone, a greetings card, a diary, Christmas coasters, crossword book, Christmas socks, Celebrations chocolates, mixed nuts, coffee, soup, two sets paper napkins, tea, truffle cakes, After Eight fondants, jam, custard creams, a calendar and a hanging organiser.  Some will go to the food bank but some may find a resting place a little closer to home.

Rival event

 

At the moment the action is centred away from the main stage.  Another fancy fella has arrived bringing another camel.  All the animals look ready to go on a journey.  I suspect that posh coves' opinion would be that they are the main event and the plebs in the stable can be ignored.  We shall see.  

Variation

It's many years since I have made a Christmas cake as everyone seemed to want me to eat some of theirs!  This year, however, I decided to make this very simple cake and cook it in a square tin so I could cut it into half (or even quarters), cover each section with marzipan and give small cakes to other friends who live alone.

Baileys condensed milk fruit cake

1kg mixed dried fruit

400g tin condensed milk

3/4 cup Baileys Irish cream

2 cups self-raising flour

Method

In a large bowl, combine dried fruit, condensed milk, Baileys and 1/2 cup water. Mix well, cover and refrigerate overnight.

Remove from the fridge and stir well, allowing it to come to room temperature. Preheat oven to 150C. Grease and line an 18cm square cake tin.

Fold flour through soaked fruit. Pour into prepared tin and smooth the top. Bake for 2 hours until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean.

(For dried fruit  I used dried strawberries, cranberries, sultanas, raisins, blueberries, glace cherries, figs, dates, apricots)

Meanwhile, back at the stable . . .

 

a shepherd has arrived to sort out the unlikely collection of animals.  He's got his hands full with two cows, one horse, one sheep and one goat.  I read something somewhere about sorting sheep and goats but he won't have too much of a problem with just one of each.  There seems to be  no food for any of them: the chocolate in front of the stable is mine and woe betide anyone who nicks it.

The overdressed gent in front of the stable can keep his greedy hands off it too.  He's now got a camel and a packhorse but the pack horse is having a rest.  No-one is going anywhere or doing anything anytime soon.  

Not feeling very ho ho ho.

 

One of the churches where I sometimes help out had its "Quiet Christmas" service this week.  It's for people who want to have space not to have to be jolly at Christmas.  

The service, which is midweek and mid afternoon, is very well attended.  Many of the people who go will be with their families on Christmas Day and will rejoice and laugh with children but they will be very aware that someone special won't be there with them.

As we get older Christmas can become more poignant.  There may have been bereavements during the year, we may have been bereaved at Christmas.  There can be separations because someone we love is somewhere else, maybe because they have moved away, or there has been a family rift.  There are so many reasons that we have to celebrate Christmas without the person we would most like to share with.  

If this is you, you are in my prayers.  May you receive the blessings of Christmas

I think I must be very good-natured or maybe just a mug

 

Not by Jack - his weren't as neat as this,

Jack and I always exchange Christmas presents.  We have done so for several years.  Some of his to me are unusual - anybody else get a tin of mushy peas and some kettle descaling tablets among the things they received last year?  No?  Then it'll just be me. (He is actually very generous and many gifts are very nice but he would have to admit that some are "unusual".) 

Anyway, Jack likes to buy each person several things.  This all fine and dandy but Jack is not the best present wrapper around.  I'm certain there was a whole roll of sellotape on the things I got last year.  I felt that he might appreciate a little help in the gift wrapping department so I invited him to come for help and a little tuition.

I think it may have been a revelation to him.  I suggested gift bags for awkwardly shaped presents.  We talked about the best sort of paper and how some paper is difficult to use and some are not eco friendly.  He discovered how to use a minimal amount of sellotape and how to attach a gift label.  We explored how to decide how much paper is needed for each present.

He didn't bring his presents for me but he has gone home knowing that their appearance will be his biggest test yet.  I'll let you know.

(He reads this blog regularly so now he knows he's got to do his best!  Tee hee!)

Now with added livestock!

The stable scene is getting much more variety in its livestock.  

We started with a cow and she was alone in the stable for a couple of days.

Far, far away there was a fancy chap with a camel but we could ignore them.

Along came a sheep and then another cow.

And now the overdressed bloke has his own camel and he's moved.

Not much movement from the equine who's resting his hooves in front of the stable.

What on earth will happen next?

Come back Monday for the next thrilling installment!

Food , glorious food!

 I suppose the most ubiquitous Christmas tradition is eating!  There's Christmas lunch with poultry, stuffing, pigs in blankets, roasties and wonderful veggies followed by pud.  Christmas cake, mince pies, yule log - all the wonderful sweet things.  Nuts, sausage rolls, pickled onions and the savoury selection.  Wonderful!  

If it were just Christmas day, there wouldn't really be a problem, other than consuming the leftovers.  That's not how it is though.  Yesterday I was out for a turkey dinner followed by Christmas pud.  I've got more meals on similar lines over the next couple of weeks.  This continues right up to Christmas and beyond.  And I can rarely resist.

How big will I be come January?!

Calm and happy

 It was a dark and lonely field.  At one end there stood an empty stable

(OK.  It's the top of the chest of drawers in my sitting room with a small Advent stable on top of it.)

A solitary cow with her own blanket against the cold stood alone for a couple of days.  In a far, far off country (right next to the stable on top of the drawers) a fancy cove was going about his business.

Yesterday a sheep came and joined her bovine friend and today said bovine has got reinforcements in case of an ovine takeover.  All seems calm and happy.

And I've now had three chocolates (there wasn't one for day 1) so I'm calm and happy too.  

A Christmas tradition

 What is it about Christmas and Brussels sprouts?  For many households it wouldn't be a proper Christmas lunch if those tight, green mini-cabbages didn't appear.  They are the stuff of legend - think "Vicar of Dibley's Christmas" and the sprout eating contest springs to mind.  Brits eat more of them than any other nation in Europe.  The equivalent of 3240 football pitches are covered with sprout plants here.  

So many Christmas games are sprout-themed.  A quick check found pass the sprout, racing sprouts, sprout escape room.

They are a "marmite" vegetable.  The RHS website says, "While so many of us love them, others hate them, which could be due to the specific gene TAS2R38, otherwise known as the ‘Brussels sprouts gene’ which regulates bitterness perception. Or it could be down to the way they’re cooked."

Who am I to ignore tradition?  Yesterday I passed a wayside stall selling sprout trees.  Isn't the arrangement of sprouts on the stem lovely!   I shall have them stir fried, sauteed and steamed.  

But it's entirely possible that I may have very few friends in the next few weeks.

An old favourite

Life is rarely simple.  I decided I would try to post each day through Advent but this morning I couldn't upload photographs from my iPad to my laptop but I persevered!

I've had this stable for at least twenty years.  Each year I get it out and it brings a smile to my face.  Each year I put it away and usually I put the figures away in some sort of order.  It would appear that last year I had some sort of brainstorm and I cupboarded them in random fashion.

Yesterday looked normal.  A cow took up residence in the stable.  Today however, we have a fancy chap bustling around with a camel and palm tree in the background.

And if you were wondering why the white blob is in front of it I will tell you.  It's a chocolate.  I was given a box last week and rather than risk downing the lot in one go, I've put one for each day.  I have become a Big Kid once again.  Today's choccie is no more.

Blogmas Day 1

 So many wonderful blogs are celebrating Blogmas this year that I feel I want to join in.  I've got a few posts in mind already but I'm starting with my favourite of the pre-Christmas stories I have written.  

It was tea break in the archangels’ rest room and it’s no use you telling me that archangels don’t have tea breaks and they don’t have rest rooms.  This is my story and I’m telling you that it was tea break in the archangels’ rest room.  

As always Raphael was there first.  It wasn’t that Raphael was work shy and knocked off first; rather it was that Raphael was the caring sort and he liked to get the kettle on ready for the others to come.  That way he could listen to their problems as they came, soothe their brows and generally do what he was best at - healing.

There was a loud rustling of wings in the corridor, the door was flung open wide and there was Michael.  One glance was enough to tell Raphael that Michael wasn’t having a good day.  Michael had very few very good days.  He was in charge of the winged squadrons and some of those cherubs were enough to try the most patient angel’s patience and no-one could call Michael the most patient angel.  Hot tea with an extra sugar and one of those nice chocolate biscuits wrapped in silver paper was Raphael’s prescription. 

Michael flopped into one of the best armchairs, hugged the cuppa like his life depended on it, gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes.  “Heaven preserve me from cherubs.”  Raphael made suitably sympathetic noises and they settled into a companionable silence.    Nothing needed to be said and they could just contemplate the infinite, which they were quite good at, as you might guess.

After a while Michael asked where Gabriel was and Raphael said that he hadn’t poured his tea as he’d heard that Big G had sent Gabriel on a job and you just never knew how long Big G’s jobs would take.  Michael nodded and once again silence fell on the rest room as they just enjoyed each other’s company – well wouldn’t you enjoy the company of angels? 

And then Gabriel arrived.  He looked so pale that the other two didn’t speak.  Raphael pressed into his hands a cup of strong tea which somehow smelled a bit spiritual, if you get my drift.  He took a huge gulp and then he spoke.  “You’ll never guess what Big G has had me doing today.”  The other two didn’t even try as they knew from long experience that second guessing Big G was beyond anyone, even an archangel.

“He’s only sent me down to earth to tell a slip of a girl called Mary that she’s going to be the mother of his son.  She’s only fifteen.  She lives in first century Palestine.  And she really hasn’t a clue.”

Michael spoke first.  “Is she married?  First century Palestine – that’s occupied by the Romans isn’t it?  And is that creep Herod still on the throne?”

Raphael wasn’t far behind with his questions.  “There won’t be a proper hospital.  And if it’s her first she won’t know how to look after it.  And she won’t have anywhere to live.  Poor little thing.”

Gabriel answered as briefly as he could.  Not married.  Palestine. Roman occupied.  Herod is still the puppet king.  Her first kid.

Michael was the first to recover.  “Not again.  You know what Big G is like.  He dishes out the decrees but leaves us to sort out the details.  You remember when he wanted do part the Red Sea but left it to us to organise the fish tanks or we’d have had a lot of extinct fish that day.  Or sorting the supper for those lions as a thank you for not eating Daniel.  Well, this will give those cherubs something to do at last.  Should put some backbone in them.  I’ll get the winged squadrons in.  Kick the Romans out of Palestine.  Find a better king for Jerusalem.

Raphael had been thinking as well.  “We’d better build a very quick twenty first century hospital.  And organise parent craft classes.  And I’ll get a few cherubs to volunteer to clean a new house for her and set up the best nursery ever.”

By this time Gabriel was beginning to look a bit better.  Not good mind, but better.  “Don’t worry about the unmarried bit.  I’ll leave it for a week or two and then go and see this old man called Joseph and tell him to marry the girl.   He’s a bit old for her but I suppose he’ll take good care of her.  Better that than a toy boy, anyway.  And maybe I should get the kid’s name down for Eton whilst I’m at it”

And so the three archangels started to plan how to improve on Big G’s plan. 

But just then the golden telephone rang.  Gabriel was the nearest so he picked it up.  Immediately he was alert and very respectful.  “Oh yes, your Almightiness.  Yes, sir.  We were just talking.  . . .  Oh, you heard us.  Of course you did.  And we made plans.  Oh you made plans too.  And your plans weren’t like ours.  You want us to . . . . what?  You’re sure.  Well if you’re absolutely sure, sir.  Well, yes sir, you know best.  Thank you, sir.”

He turned to the other two.  “That was Big G.  He says we’re to forget organising a coup to get rid of the Romans and replace Herod.  We’re to withdraw the planning application for the hospital and stand down the cherubs from spring cleaning.  He says that his son is to be just as vulnerable as the poorest of them.  To have parents as inadequate as most of them are.  To be born among the poorest and to grow up among the commonest of them.  In fact he’s going to know suffering and grief like them.  That way, no matter what those humans go through they’ll know that God understands and is right there beside them.”

Wintering

Winter is often a struggle for me.  Not so much physically (although I do get extra aches and pains) but more mentally.  I've got a SAD light which helps but I've been advised to look more closely at nature .  So, when the clocks went back last Sunday I started to make an effort.  Here are the first few days.

Sunday.  I spent ten minutes looking at the trees in the garden across the road.  One is turning brown but at the moment it’s half way through.  One is a rich dark red. 

Monday.   I'm watching a leaf.  Just the one.  It's not a leaf attached to a tree.  It's attached to a spider's web.  It's just outside my window and I can watch it bobbing around on the slightest breeze.  The web is nearly invisible but must be very strong for its thickness.

Tuesday.  I have decided to watch the sunrise.  I often watch the really colourful ones but this is a dullish day.  Even so I was surprised at the many shades of grey which appeared.  I watched for over half an hour.   Why have I always written off these sunrises as "dull"?

Wednesday.  Today I went to the river in Brigg.  It was very still with quite a few leaves floating.  What amused me was the moorhens taking off.  They run across the surface of the water as if it were a runway and they have huge feet!

Thursday.  I am not feeling quite so charitable towards nature today.  I went out to the garden and the cabbage whites have ruined the tenderstem broccoli.  I am surprised how late they have been active.  

I don't know whether this "habit" will help but I shall give it a good try!

 

The 1994 cohort

The Bishop of  London

"The 1994 cohort" doesn't sound very exciting but it's a group to which I am very proud to belong.  It means the thousand plus women who were ordained in 1994 after a very long wait to become priests.

My personal thirtieth anniversary was back in April but the C of E has had various events over this last year commemorating the contribution of women (both ordained and lay) to the ministry of the church.   On Friday the 1994 cohort was invited to join in the national celebration in London and over a hundred of us accepted the invitation.  Since 1994 many of those thousand women have "been promoted to glory" and others are too frail to make the journey to London.  

A "Popemobile" to take me across King's Cross Station!

My good friend E, (a priest of a mere twenty years standing!) came with me and helped me and without her I wouldn't have been able to go.  We travelled by train and taxi to make things as easy as possible for me.

First I went to Lambeth Palace (the official home of The Archbishop of Canterbury) where "the cohort" was treated to a wonderful afternoon tea.  Then coaches took us to St Paul's Cathedral where the Bishop of London, Sarah Mullally, presided at a memorable Eucharist.  

Thirty years ago we were  regarded with a great deal of suspicion by both clergy an laity.  It would be hard to imagine the C of E without its clergy women today.  Thanks be to God!

Z is for Zucchini

 

Courgette? Zucchini?

I ran Zucchini through file explorer and it didn't appear even once.  Neither did rutabaga, cilantro or egg plant.  Courgette, swede, coriander and aubergine all appeared, though.  In fact each appeared multiple times.  American English seems to be influenced by Italian, ours by French

Cilantro? Coriander?

These are familiar foods both sides of the Atlantic but with completely different names.  I'd be interested to know what each is called in other countries. 

Sometimes we use the same word with different meanings.  A man going out in the USA in vest and pants would, I believe, look quite respectable whereas here he would raise a few eyebrows especially if he were wearing suspenders as well.

Swede? Rutabaga?

I can't follow American crochet patterns unless I first "translate" them as the same terms have different meanings eg an American double crochet is a treble here.  

I'm not good at following some American recipes either as we use weight rather than volume, other than liquids.  Another question: if a recipe demands a cup of flour is that sieved or unsieved volume?  And how much butter is in a stick?  Is flour sold by weight or volume?

Egg plant? Aubergine?

However, today I am very happy to use American terminology as it has brought me neatly to the end of the alphabet

Y is for YMCA

As we walked away from church on Sunday, an elderly gentleman and I were discussing what we were having for lunch.

"I'm having salmon with new potatoes and salad" I said.

"I'm having YMCA" he said

"YMCA?"

"YMCA.  Yesterday's Meal Cooked Again."

I rather liked it and I giggled a bit on the way home.

But it made me think about weird names for food. Some proper names for food are weird. One reader commented that her husband didn't believe there really was a dish called Bubble and Squeak.  I asked how he could make himself eat a Hot Dog. 

But it's the informal names for dishes which are the most fun.  I've just eaten a bowl of Whatever Soup, so named because it includes whatever happens to be in the fridge.  Others call that Bottom of the Fridge Soup, Bung It In Soup or Iffits Soup.

Any ideas from you?

X is for Xmas preparations

 I don't often write Xmas instead of Christmas but when it comes to X in a second round of alphabet posts, I'll take what ever I can!

I start preparing for Christmas on 26th December when I note what I have given and received each year.  On 26th December 2023 I made a list of the people I would like to give things to this year, and I've been revising it throughout the year, adding ideas for gifts or crossing them out.  The vast majority of the presents I give are home-made so I often start  in January or February.  I reckon if I haven't got my cards made before the end of July, they're probably a lost cause!

You have seen some of the things I have made this year: poinsettia wreaths, partridge and pear, and my Christmas cards.

I've got a few projects in progress - but you'll have to wait for future post to see what they are!!

W is for Willoughton and Walesby

St Andrew's Church, Willoughton

 For nearly fifteen years I was Vicar of Willoughton.  It was one of the five parishes in my group.

Today I have taken a service at Walesby.  I go to Walesby a few times each year, sometimes to lead and sometimes to be part of the congregation.  I have no "formal" relationship with Walesby, I am not their vicar.

Only a minority of Willoughton residents came to church but everyone knew me as the vicar.  Sunday by Sunday I lead worship in the various churches in the group.  They knew they could call on my services when there was a wedding or a funeral.  I would attend as many village events as I could.  

St Mary's Church, Walesby.

I take services at Walesby only when invited by the Priest in Charge.  She looks after eleven parishes and needs help every Sunday but there is a Non Stipendiary Priest and several lay ministers helping her most Sundays.  Today the NSM was away so I filled in.  I don't take weddings in that group and take only very occasional funerals when asked to by the Priest in Charge.  I don't live in the group and I attend very few events there.  I am free to accept invitations anywhere I want, and I fill in for clergy who are ill or on holiday.

I take services on one or two Sundays each month but I am free to say "No" when invited.  Eventually I will no longer lead but I will still be in church, in a pew, grateful for the love of God shown to me through other ministers.  

126 sleeps

 My Christmas preparations are gathering momentum at the moment.  The mojo will doubtless leave before long but for the moment, I'm taking full advantage.

Apart from "personal" Christmas gifts, I like to give to organisations.  This lot is going to the Women's Institute.  I seem to make a few every year, but this is my best batch yet.

An elf at work

Elf hoping not to be recognised.

 I have been recruited by Santa!

He visited my house during his off peak season and left a note saying that he knew a few children who would quite like the scarves I knit but would I make some a bit smaller., please.  He even left me some sparkly red and green wool for a stripe in each scarf. 

Who could refuse a request from The Great Man?  So I donned my elf kit and set to work.  

These are the first two waiting for his approval.  

They may help me to stay off the naughty list. 

V is for vegetables

 Five a day, thirty a week, plant consumption is SO important.  I usually manage both those targets but I have to do a bit of planning to make sure I hit the second.  The thirty can include not just vegetables but also fruit, nuts, seeds, herbs, edible flowers, spices and some grains.

A couple of times each month I pick up a Waste Not box from Lidl.  They are brilliant value and they often contain items which I wouldn't normally buy but, as I consider myself honour-bound not to waste anything from these precious boxes, I eat them.  I'm not keen on pears or padron peppers but they were in last week's box so I am eating them.  Some things, eg large quantities of potatoes, I give away, knowing that the recipients won't waste them either.

My freshest vegetables are from my garden and this year it has done me proud.  In this bed I've got tomatoes, cucumber, lettuce, courgettes, beetroot, leeks, and broccoli.  There are some French marigolds in there too

And I grow runner beans amongst the flowers.  Jack says he doesn't approve but I think he may be coming around to my way of thinking.  If not - tough!

The sweet peas have been flowering since 27th June with at least a vaseful each day and plenty to give to friends

U is for Unknown

 

Life is full of little mysteries.  I suppose the classic is, "Why does the toaast always fall butter side down?"   And if there is a scientific explanation of that "fact" please don't tell me as I doubt whether my brain could cope.  

Why does Blogger do such peculiar things to my posts?

Why do unexpected visitors arrive when I'm having a duvet day?

Why do so many socks/gloves lose their mates?

Why does the washing line choose to break when there white sheets on it?

Why is it that the smallest sized chocolate bar is called "fun sized"?

Why do I press harder on a remote-control when I know the battery is dead?

Why doesn't the wool on sheep shrink?

When I do a series of alphabet posts why are all the brain cudgelling ones together at the end of the alphabet?  (Actually they are always at the end of the alpabet.  Silly me.)

T is for Technology

 

“One day there will be a telephone in every major city in America.”

 I love that quote from Alexander Graham Bell.  He was such a brilliant man, so forward thinking, and yet even he could not foresee the future.

 Every generation has seen technology move on a little bit more.  My grandmother regarded telephones with suspicion (although she gradually saw some of their advantages), and my mother refused to have anything to do with computers.  So far I’m OK with most “new technology” although the time may come . . .

On Friday I had cataract surgery.  My eyes had been digitally scanned to check the size of the cataract and the size of the lens so that the first could be removed and the second replaced as accurately as possible.  Information about me had been sent digitally so that other health issues could be considered (e.g., the medications I take regularly).  I received a digital print out regarding aftercare. My next-of-kin's mobile number was readily available in the unlikely case of difficulties.

Yes, I know some  technology is intrusive and annoying, and that the human touch is mich more important, but for the most part I would say T is for both Technology and Thankfulness. 

PS.  Thank you for all the kind comments on my last post.  I am fine and tmy eyesight continues to improve.

S is for surgery

 

This is just a very quick post as all I want to do is sit with my eyes closed!  I had cataract surgery this moorning and all went well.  Thank you Jack for taking me amd a huge thank you to the team at Goole Community Hospital who took care of me. 

R is for Remember when

I love to remember when I was a girl.

Sometimes my remembering makes me want those times back, but often I feel glad that things have changed.

 Do you remember waking up in a cold bedroom with ice on the inside of windows?  And a weekly bath and daily all over washes with a rough flannel?

 

Do you remember there being milk delivered to the doorstep before you were even up?

 Do you remember walking to school with your friends and skipping or playing hopscotch on the way?

Do you remember cycling to school and maybe propping your bike against the kerb on the way?   I don't know when I last saw a bike leaning on a kerb.

 Do you remember getting a third of a pint of slightly warm milk (with a straw) to drink at mid-morning?

Do you remember school dinners with liver or a sausage or anonymous meat with cabbage or carrots and mashed potato, followed by rice pudding?

 Do you remember the excitement of school radio programmes?

 Do you remember bread and jam for tea, followed by home-made cake?

 Do you remember going to bed cuddling a hot water bottle (mine was stone!) with all sorts of things piled on the bed just to keep you warm?

 

If you do, I think you (like me) are very lucky.