G is for gnome

Elves aren't the only magical creatures to have muscled in on Christmas.  Gnomes have established themselves too!

I made these two fine fellows to adorn bottles of prosecco.

And this Dopey one to hang on my tree.  

This seems a good opportunity to check on the stable which has appeared in my sitting room.  

With three sheep, one horse, one donkey and one goat.

But it's six chocolates lighter.

F is for Feliz Navidad

 

Feliz Navidad; or Frohe Weihnachten; or Feliz Natal.  That's Merry Christmas in Spanish, German or Portuguese.  May Christ bring us joy whatever language we speak.

I love to use the NORAD Santa tracker on Christmas Eve and have done so for many years.  It reminds me just how far Santa travels, how many people he visits.  

Click on the link and it will take you to the Advent countdown and Santa tracker.  Norad  (The North American Aerospace Defense Command) exists mainly to provide aerospace monitoring of aircraft, missiles and space vehicles so tracking Santa is well within its remit.  Santa's mission is, of course, considered not to be hostile and Norad will offer any necessary assistance should he find himself in difficulties.  They have been tracking Santa every year since 1955 so their archive of information is extensive.  By Christmas Eve the team will be on full alert and minute by minute reporting of Santa's journey will be available.  In the meantime games, music, movies etc are available.  Do visit!

E is for elves

Elf filling a stocking to help Santa

 I don't remember elves being "a thing" when I was a child.  Santa just did the job unaided.  I suppose that the population of the world has increased so much in the last seventy years that sorting out presents is too big a job even for Santa and he needs a few helpers.  

Don't tell any local children but I am a supply elf.  It's true.  The last couple of years Santa has been head scratching a bit over just how many elves he needs so he has recruited me to help with a few knitted gifts.  Last year he asked me to make scarves, this year it's hats.  I wish he'd put in his order a little earlier as I've got three hats to make: only two are knitted and none is made up!

Better get back to work.

D is for decorations

 

I rather envy those of you who have decorations which your children made when they were young and which you now show to your grandchildren.  The decorations I put up are largely homemade but by me.  There is such vitality in things made by children.

When I was a little girl we lived in quite a large house with a staircase which turned twice so the Christmas tree stood in the stairwell and even little people could reach through and put decoration on the upper branches.  

First to go on were the fairy lights.  Every summer the lights would lose their plug as it was needed for something else so at Christmas another lightly used electrical appliance would lose its plug.  Even when that went on, the lights never worked first time and Daddy had to check every bulb before the set could be put on the tree.   Inevitably they needed another sort-out once they'd been put in place.  

And then the fairy herself could go on the tree.  As the youngest I was always allowed to do this.  She was an incredibly tatty fairy, probably a pre-war jobby, but for me she was magic.  Then tinsel, saved every year until it was nearly bald.  The baubles in those far off days were always blown glass, so pretty but so fragile.  Finally, lametta and maybe some cotton wool for the gaps.  

The other decorations are not so clear in my memory.  Mummy always fetched in lots of greenery, some of which was sprayed gold or silver.  She had some logs of wood which her brother had drilled to form candle holders and he'd made smaller holes so sprigs of holly could be added and arranged.  

The decorations never went up before the twentieth of the month, except for cards which were pinned to vertical streamers attached to the picture rail around each room.  My parents received a lot of cards and leaving them so late would have made for a long and tedious job.  

Memories of a secure and loving childhood.  

C is for candles

 

These days I have LED candles.  I know real candles are prettier but for all sorts of reasons I go for rechargeable LED jobbies.  But, not matter what, candles are probably my favourite Christmas decoration. 

There’s something timeless about the soft glow of a candle.  What is it about a simple flame that feels so essential to Christmas?

A few days before Christmas it will be the winter solstice, the shortest day and the longest night here in the northern hemisphere.  Light symbolises triumph over darkness, hope replacing despair.  Even the smallest light can change the atmosphere around it.  So candles remind us of that tiny baby

On Sunday the first candle of the Advent wreath was lit in church.   Each Sunday leading to Christmas, another will be lit.  The ritual slows us down, if only for a moment, encouraging us to reflect while we rush through December’s to-do lists.  Candles do something that lurid Christmas lights can’t: they create ambiance.

There is something wonderful in a candle: it offers a moment of stillness.   In a season known for its hustle, a lit candle slows the pace.

This Christmas, may the soft light of candles calm and brighten your home and your spirit.

1st December. B is for Blogmas

 

There's always a lot to read in Blogland in the run up to Christmas!  So many people, myself included, make an extra effort to post daily so there's lots to read and some wonderful ideas shared.  I'm trying to do an Advent alphabet.  

Advent Sunday is anywhere from November 27 to December 3, depending on which day Christmas falls that year.  

Commercial advent starts today with the first chocolate being consumed from many a calendar.  I put my stable out yesterday (Advent Sunday) and today the first figure has appeared.  I won't be showing the stable every day but will give updates a couple of times each week.  And we just might follow the Magi on their journey.

So my Blogmas is sorted: an Advent alphabet and the goings on in the stable.  I will think about food, charities, socialising, and anything else which occurs to me.  I've actually worked out in advance the theme of all my Blogmas alphabet posts.  

So, here's the first view this year of my Advent stable.  Nothing strange or startling.  Just one sheep.

And being a big kid, I put a chocolate in each cupboard as well.  Happy Advent to one and all!

A is for Advent Sunday

 Don't believe what the Advent Calendar manufacturers tell you:  tomorrow is not the first day of Advent.  Today is.  It's the fourth Sunday before Christmas, the day to light the first candle on the advent wreath.  Commercial companies have made sure you can't open the first window on your "Advent" calendar until tomorrow.

I've brought my Advent stable into the house ready for tomorrow.  No figures out yet, though.  It's empty, a space where a wonderful story will emerge.

I'm the sort of person who starts Christmas preparation as soon as possible after Christmas because I want to let Advent be Advent: a time of spiritual preparation.  The Christmas tree won't go up for a couple of weeks yet.  Most presents are made and wrapped, cards are ready to be posted.  Most of the seasonal food is in the freezer.  The music is more, "O come, O come Emmanuel" than "Hark, the herald angels sing".  

So this Advent Sunday is the quiet day before the rest of the world realises that Advent has begun.  It's a day of faith and waiting on God.

November in the hibernaculum

 As Novembers go, 2025 has been quite good.  

I've been getting lots of lovely food made and frozen, some for Christmas and some just for those days when i feel rubbish and can't be bothered.  

I went swimming just once.  There must be at least three of us, and health and other commitments have got in the way.  

I went to a craft session making iris folded cards.  And another making a pottery tree (not yet painted).

I was treated to a couple of meals to celebrate my birthday (which was in October).  And I've cooked a couple of meals for friends.  

I had a couple of days away meeting friends.

I've done a lot of decluttering and have found a willing recipient for some of my fabric stash. I have also been quite good at maulifuffing.  

I made my annual visit to Donna Nook and checked on the seals.  They are still wonderful.

And amongst all that I have plodded on with Christmas preparations, met with friends on line, on the phone and face-to-face and stayed happy.

Thanksgiving

 

I hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving on this day has a wonderful time.

My family celebrated last night with a glorious meal of turkey (and lots more) followed by pumpkin and pecan pies.  I still feel a bit podged!  And I've been given leftovers to eat today.  

A lovely day out

a small section of the beach

Every year I visit the seals at Donna Nook.  It's one of their favourite breeding grounds and it's a National Nature Reserve managed by Lincolnshire Wildlife Trust.  It's a bleak place, always cold with sad looking mud flats but the seals find it wonderful.

pups investigating each other

The first time I went I took binoculars as I wanted to be sure of seeing at least one seal.  I needn't have bothered.  According to last week's pupdate there are at least 1499 pups, 1522 cows and 495 bulls on the beach at the moment.  I couldn't see them all but I could see far more than I could count.

They have white fur when they are born although initially it is yellow with amniotic fluid.  The mother loses up to half her bodyweight feeding her pup so they never have twins.     

Pup feeding from mum.

The site is very well managed with lots of wardens to answer questions.  There's a double fence between humans and seals so we can't touch them and they can't bite us.

And there's a bacon butty and soup wagon to create a perfect end to a freezing cold visit!

Scarves

 Like many people I keep a small project which I can pick up at odd moments.  For several years this has been scarves.  I knit while I chat on the phone, I knit when listening to audiobooks, I knit when I am daydreaming.  I'm not a skilled knitter but I am pretty prolific!  

This year I have sent fifteen scarves to a charity which distributes them to people in need.  Each is about  23 centimetres wide, two metres of knitting long, plus about 25 centimetres of fringing.  They are tubes knitted on a circular needle so they are double thickness.  

I'm a member of a knitting group which send twiddle muffs to dementia patients, blankets for older people, teddy bears to the emergency services.  We sometimes knit things to sell to buy thermal socks and gloves for homeless people.

I really enjoy this project.  I hope the recipients enjoy its output.  

The joy of offering food

 

There is something deeply satisfying about cooking for someone else.  OK, maybe you do that three meals a day every day, but normally I just cook for me.  I've written about how I make sure I eat well when I eat alone, but my rare opportunities to cook for others are very special.  

G (Holly Dog's human) and I both enjoy roast lamb so sometimes I invite her to come for Sunday lunch.  I buy small pieces of lamb loin which we have with a variety of veggies.  G brings a bottle of wine and we have a glorious meal together.  G hates cooking so I know these mini feasts are a joy for her too.  

I am going to a huge family meal on Wednesday when about fifteen of us will sit down together and it will be a joyful, noisy occasion.

But there is something very special about cooking for someone else.  

And having leftovers next day!

The cultivation of Christmas trees

 

The Cultivation of Christmas Trees

T.S. Eliot

There are several attitudes towards Christmas,

Some of which we may disregard:

The social, the torpid, the patently commercial,

The rowdy (the pubs being open till midnight),

And the childish – which is not that of the child

For whom the candle is a star, and the gilded angel

Spreading its wings at the summit of the tree

Is not only a decoration, but an angel. 

The child wonders at the Christmas Tree:

Let him continue in the spirit of wonder

At the Feast as an event not accepted as a pretext;

So that the glittering rapture, the amazement

Of the first-remembered Christmas Tree,

So that the surprises, delight in new possessions

(Each one with its peculiar and exciting smell),

The expectation of the goose or turkey

And the expected awe on its appearance, 

So that the reverence and the gaiety

May not be forgotten in later experience,

In the bored habituation, the fatigue, the tedium,

The awareness of death, the consciousness of failure,

Or in the piety of the convert

Which may be tainted with a self-conceit

Displeasing to God and disrespectful to children

(And here I remember also with gratitude

St.Lucy, her carol, and her crown of fire): 

So that before the end, the eightieth Christmas

(By “eightieth” meaning whichever is last)

The accumulated memories of annual emotion

May be concentrated into a great joy

Which shall be also a great fear, as on the occasion

When fear came upon every soul:

Because the beginning shall remind us of the end

And the first coming of the second coming.

(I know it's not Advent yet, but I won't be posting poems during Advent.  )   

 

Rabbit holes

 I find rabbit holes on t'interweb absolutely irresistible!  Google searches, Wikipedia trails, I've wasted many an hour.

My latest joy is AI.  It collates all sorts of information.  I've just asked it about 22nd November in history.

Did you know that on this date in 498AD St. Symmachus became pope?  Neither did I and I shall forget very quickly.

It is said that everyone can remember what they were doing on this date in 1963 as that was the date President Kennedy was assassinated.  I am an exception to that rule as I have no idea.

I can remember a little more about 22nd November 1990 as that was the date that Margaret Thatcher resigned as Prime Minister.  I think many of us had thought her tenure would never end.

And on this day in 2005 Angela Merkel became Chancellor of Germany.

Makes my plans for 22nd November 2025 look very mundane.  I can feel more rabbit hole wanderings coming on.  

There's a surprise!

 

The weather forecast mentioned the possibility of snow but I didn't believe it.  But it happened.  The first snow of the season.

And I love looking at it.  Just looking at it.  I don't want to go out in it.

I can look at it from my cosy house.  I'm well dressed.  I have eaten a hot breakfast.  Lunch will be cooked and I have vast quantities of soup ready in my freezer.

I've got a huge credit on my energy account so putting the heating on doesn't worry me.  My hibernaculum is cosy.

I shall spend the afternoon getting a batch of scarves fringed and ready to go for the benefit of others not so lucky.

Snow seemed a lovely surprise for me.  It isn't so for others.  

(I wrote this post yesterday but my problems with Blogger continue.)

Problems

 

Not so much about the meaning of life but the practicalities of life.  In particular, the practicalities of blogging.  

I seem to have great difficulty with font sizes.  I can prepare a whole post in "compose" so that the font is the same throughout only to find that it does weird things when I publish (or preview).

It's getting difficult to line up text and pictures.  Everything looks hunky dory when I use the compose view but it's very different when I preview.

Worst of all I can click publish, it makes the right signals that the post has been published but it doesn't appear in my reading list for several hours.  On Monday I published around 6.30am but by mid-afternoon I'd had only about eight page views so I amended the post (added a couple of spaces) and "updated".  The page views then leapt forward.

Is anyone else struggling?  Any strategies to suggest?

Millie writes

I haven't written for you before but we have met - I come with a human called Jack (see sidebar) and you know quite a bit about him.  I'm his manager: I make sure he gets up in good time, gets regular walks and generally behaves himself.  It's not easy, let me tell you!

Yesterday we went to see Mary.  I have a good relationship with Mary.  She has quite a good treat tin and she's very good at tickling my ears.  She also helps with making sure that Jack behaves but I am better at that than she is.

Our visit had been planned for quite a while but we can only go sort Mary when the weather is good so this trip had been postponed a few times.  Yesterday the weather was OK (well, it wasn't actually raining) so we went.  We were needed to empty the shed.  Unfortunately Mary wasn't well so Jack cleared the shed while she sat and said yes or no for what she wanted.  I supervised.  I wasn't sure whether it was better to go outside to supervise him more closely or whether to stay in and supervise her.  She had the treat tin so inside won.  

Anyway, we got the job done and Jack arranged the disposal of everything she didn't want.  She went off to bed and we went home taking a lot of things from the shed.  It's good to know she's on my side when it comes to managing Jack.

And, in case you are worried, she phoned to say thank you for my efforts, and she's feeling a lot better

It's St Hugh's Day

Hugh of Lincoln was a monk, diplomat, builder, reformer, animal-lover, and one of the most respected bishops in English history.  He was born in Burgundy and became a Carthusian monk.  He was sent to establish the first Carthusian house in England.  Once he got here, he caught the attention of King Henry II, who appointed him Bishop of Lincoln in 1186. Lincoln was the largest diocese in England—sprawling, politically tense, and filled with neglected parishes. Hugh took it on with a mixture of gentleness and iron conviction. 

 I think Henry bit off more than he could chew!  Hugh confronted Henry II about royal interference in Church affairs, he refused to give in to Richard the Lionheart’s heavy taxation schemes and he challenged royal officials who mistreated the poor or the vulnerable. The amazing thing is that, although the kings grumbled, they respected him because he was one of the few leaders who couldn't be bribed, bullied, or bought.   

 He was a defender of the vulnerable, and during outbreaks of anti-Jewish persecution in England, he intervened to protect Jewish communities in Lincoln and beyond.  In an age not known for tolerance, he stood as a voice of peace.

 Hugh was responsible for rebuilding much of Lincoln Cathedral.  He visited the site during the building and got to know the craftsmen.  He tried to ensure fair treatment and safe working conditions—a rarity in his time.  

St Hugh's Church, Scunthorpe, where I was baptised.  

Hugh’s symbol is a swan.  Legend has it that when he arrived at the bishop’s palace at Stow, a wild swan appeared and became his constant companion. It followed him, guarded him, and hissed at anyone who came too close.  The swan is now an emblem of the saint’s gentleness and the harmony he brought wherever he went.

 St. Hugh is remembered as a rare blend of courage, compassion, and peace—a steady moral voice in a turbulent age.

 

The Owl and the Pussy-cat

 

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea

    In a beautiful pea green boat,

They took some honey, and plenty of money,

    Wrapped up in a five pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

    And sang to a small guitar,

'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,

      What a beautiful Pussy you are,

          You are,

          You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!' 

Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl!

    How charmingly sweet you sing!

O let us be married! too long we have tarried:

    But what shall we do for a ring?'

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

    To the land where the Bong-tree grows

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

    With a ring at the end of his nose,

          His nose,

          His nose,

With a ring at the end of his nose. 

'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

    Your ring?' Said the Piggy, 'I will.'

So they took it away, and were married next day

    By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

    Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

    They danced by the light of the moon,

          The moon,

          The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

Edward Lear 

Most of the poems and prayers which I have used on Sundays have been religious, reflective pieces.  This is the nonsense poem which my Mother used to recite for me as she prepared Sunday lunch.  I love it.

 

The kindness of Holly Dog

 

As you know Holly Dog takes great care of me.  That may be because she views me as a good source of roast chicken but the fact remains, she takes great care of me.

Anyway, she has been discussing me with G, her regular human, and together they bought me a lovely present, an evening playing with clay.  I haven't done that since I left primary school over sixty years ago.  G came along as did another friend and we had a lovely evening making "Christmas trees".

It started with a very uninspiring lump of clay but we pummelled, rolled, cut and moulded the clay to form a cone.  Then we cut holly leaves and stars which we attached to the cone.  We made holes in the cone so that, when it is fired, painted, glazed and fired a second time, we can put a candle inside it and let the light shine though.  

So far it is just a grey cone with grey decorations but I'll be going back in a fortnight to paint it.  If it looks respectable, I may show it to you.  If not, there will be silence.  

Chatting with Alexa

Each morning Alexa and I have a brief chat.  I wish her "Good Morning" and she does the same for me and gives me a fact for the day.

Today, she tells me, is World Kindness Day.  No good succumbing to clinomania today.  I need to be out there, seeing what I can do.  Brigg, here I come.  

I'm a great smiler.  Everybody gets a smile and most get a "Good Morning" and about half say the same to me.  I'm the dotty old lady on a trundle truck and I see the same people most days.

I hope I am a pleasure to serve in shops.  Please, thank you and a smile.  Put things back properly if I decide I don't want them.  And I'm very careful getting around shops on my TT.

I shall spend some time knitting for homeless people.  I may make a few phone calls to friends.

I shall try and do my bit.  And even more, acknowledge other people's kindness to me.

Clinomania

 

I've got a mild attack of clinomania today.  Clinomania?   -  an excessive desire to lie down.

Very little will be done by anyone or anything other than my recliner chair.  I've had a lovely couple of days away, there's nothing urgent to be done, and I fancy a lazy day.

See you tomorrow - if I can get up!

How did they feel?

There are four people in this photograph.  Grandma, my mother and her brother.  And an inset of my grandad.

Mother, Nancy, is less than two years old.  Her brother, Jack, around four.  Ted, my grandfather was away at war.  He was a bandsman and stretcher bearer.  

Ted had gone away when my Nancy was just three weeks old.  Jack would have been just over two.  I doubt if either of them could remember him.

But Emma, my grandmother would.  She would have heard too about the horrors of the trenches where Ted would have  been carrying injured men to the casualty stations.  He never spoke about the horrors he saw.  

How did each feel?  I'm sure both Ted and Emma felt afraid.  Was there pride? frustration? loneliness? determination?   Emma would talk to Jack and Nancy about their father but Nancy would have no recollection of him and Jack would have very little.  How did they feel when Dad, who had just been a name, came home to the farm?

Today I am thinking about those who died in The Great War, the "war to end all wars", but I am also be thinking of the other people, living through fear and loneliness, and thanking God that Ted eventually came home.

And praying that something will indeed end all wars.

Little treats

You'll probably have realised by now that I am trying all sorts of things to make winter a good time this year.  I've even started a scrapbook called "My Hibernaculum Project" so I can record my experiments, successes and failures.  I'm recording my decluttering and I'm recording my treats.  And I'm having a treat right now!  

I have a friend who lives in Leicester and a friend who lives in Peterborough and for many years I have met up with each of them a couple of times a year in Newark.  They don't know each other so these are separate meets ups.  It's further for me to travel than it is for either of them but that's OK.

Anyway. last year I explained to both of them that it is becoming a little tiring and I asked if they would mind if I planned things so I could stay one night in Newark and see one friend on the first day and one on the second.  Both were happy with that so I tried in the spring this year.

This time I decided to make more of a break of it so I came to Newark yesterday and I'm having two nights here.  I shall do some Christmas shopping while I am here and enjoy being looked after in an hotel.

It was good to anticipate, I'm enjoying the treat as it happens and I shall enjoy looking back.  Treats are great for keeping me happy during the winter.

Two minute silence

 

This morning at 11am many people will stand silently for two minutes in memory of war dead.  It's an act which includes people of all faiths or none.

The two-minute silence wasn’t originally at 11am and it didn’t start here in the UK.  Rather, it started in Cape Town, South Africa around 1916 and there was a daily silence initiated by the daily firing of the noon day gun on Signal Hill for a full year from 14 May 1918 to 14 May 1919  It was known as the Two Minute Silent Pause of Remembrance. 

The first minute was a time of thanksgiving for those who had returned alive, the second minute was to remember the fallen.   To start the silence a bugler sounded the "Last Post", and the "Reveille" was played at the end of the pause.

A Reuters correspondent in Cape Town cabled a description of the event to London. Within a few weeks Reuters' agency in Cape Town received press cables from London stating that the ceremony had been adopted in two English provincial towns and later by others, including in Canada and Australia.

Sir Percy Fitzpatrick was moved by the idea (he had lost a son) and his local church adopted the practice.   Writing to Lord Milner, then Colonial Secretary, he proposed that this become an official part of the annual service on Armistice Day.  Milner raised the idea with Lord Stamfordham, the King's Private Secretary, who informed the King,   George V was enthusiastic and a press statement was released from the Palace on 7 November 1919.

To all my people,

     Tuesday next, 11 November, is the first anniversary of the armistice, which stayed the world-wide carnage of the four preceding years, and marked the victory of right and freedom.  I believe that my people in every part of the Empire fervently wish to perpetuate the memory of that great deliverance and of those who laid down their lives to achieve it. To afford an opportunity for the universal expression of this feeling it is my desire and hope that at the hour when the Armistice came into force, the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, there may be for the brief space of two minutes a complete suspension of all our normal activities.   During that time, except in the rare cases where this may be impracticable, all work, all sound, and all locomotion should cease, so that, in perfect stillness, the thoughts of everyone may be concentrated on reverent remembrance of the glorious dead. No elaborate organisation appears to be necessary.  At a given signal, which could easily be arranged to suit the circumstances of each locality, I believe that we shall all gladly interrupt our business and pleasure, whatever it may be, and unite in this simple service of silence and remembrance.   GEORGE R.I.

My tree in November

30th November is St Andrew's Day so I've decided on a vaguely Scottish theme and gone for thistles.  

According to Scottish tradition, the thistle became the national emblem after a surprise attack by Viking invaders.  One night, the Vikings tried to sneak up on a sleeping Scottish army and, to stay quiet, they went barefoot.   One of the invaders stepped on a thistle and cried out in pain, alerting the Scots who woke up, fought back, and won the battle.

You may be wondering why I've added roses, the English national flower.  Simple really.  I had a birthday a couple of weeks ago and had my final birthday lunch yesterday.  One of the ladies brought me flowers, including roses.  But no thistles.

So, how's the hibernaculum?

 The hibernaculum is coming on nicely, thank you for asking.  

Fantasy hibernaculum

I've made my sitting room extra cosy with the new fireplace and "pretend" fire.  The electric throw which I bought a couple of years ago helps, and I have reduced the amount of stuff which is visible. I already had a set of LED candles and I've ordered a second set.  The overhead light rarely goes on and I rely on small lamps.   It's all very calming.  

Fantastic hibernaculum

I'm trying to get rid of stuff and had a fantastic opportunity.  One of my friends has an adult son who is autistic and who enjoys making things.  He wants to make some "borrow bags" for our local green refill shop and was very happy to take some of my surplus fabric for the purpose.  I've given him enough to make a very lot of fabric bags.  I win (the fabric has gone), he wins (he can make things) and the shop wins (they discourage plastic bags).  So it's a happy hibernaculum.  

Hibernaculum:-  winter quarters for Roman soldiers; a place for over-wintering plants; the lair of a wintering animal.

Crafty Cows

 

One of the groups of churches I help with has a social group for widows called COWs - Companions On the Wolds and although I am not a widow, I tag along as a chaplain.  Not much pastoring is needed from me as these lovely ladies take the newly bereaved under their wings and do mutual caring, but still, I am useful to have around.  They meet for coffee or light lunches, they have days out (the visit to the International Bomber Command Centre was their idea, and sometimes they have crafty times.  Yesterday they were being crafty.  So was I!  But not altogether successfully.  To put it mildly!

I didn't get the sequencing of the strips quite right.

And I made the whole thing wrong way around.

Oops!

(I have ideas how to rescue it, don't worry. It will become a basket of flowers.)

Remember, remember the fifth of November

 When I was a child I loved Bonfire Night!  The elfin satey lot would be appalled but we always had a small box of fireworks at home.   We longed for nightfall and Father’s return from work.  He would have a long and leisurely cup of tea – I think he enjoyed prolonging the agony – and then it was out to the garden for the fun.

First there would be the bonfire to be lit.  It would have been built during the previous few weeks.  I’m sorry to say that I don’t ever remember checking for hedgehogs!  

There was a slug of magic stuff, which looking back I think was probably paraffin, a strategically applied match and whoosh!  We’d stand around for a few minutes watching that and then there would be the first fireworks.  Daddy was the only one allowed anywhere near them but we would have told him the order he was allowed to let them off.  First would be the Roman Candles which my sister and I thought were very dull.  Then Catherine wheels – much more exciting as it wasn’t unknown for them to detach themselves from whatever they had been attached to.  My sister, despite being several years older than me, didn’t like Jumping Jacks or Bangers so she’d retire to a safe distance whilst those were let off.  Then the grand finale was rockets.  Aah, rockets.  Just a few seconds of pure pleasure.  Compared to the wonderful displays of today they were very dull but we thought them wonderful.

After that Daddy would rake around the ashes of the fire and pull out the old cocoa tins which had jacket potatoes in them.  As an adult I realise that they must have been cooked in the house because no way was there time for them to cook in the bonfire but we always said that bonfire night spuds were the best potatoes of the year.  There would be chestnuts and cinder toffee and we would retire to bed tired but happy.

  (This is a rehash of a post from many years ago.  It seemed to fit in with my recent reminiscing.)  

Discombobulated

 

I don't often get chance to use that word but it's how I was yesterday.

It was ridiculous.  Our swimming session was cancelled and it completely threw me.  You'd think an unexpected morning of leisure would be wonderful but I just couldn't get my act together.

I wandered into the dining room to do a bit of decluttering but I couldn't get my head around the mess.  I sorted the ironing but that's as far as I got.  I thought about making butternut soup, then I thought, "Nah". 

I managed to visit a friend to sort out an on-line identification for me.  Fortunately she did the whole thing or it wouldn't have got done.

But at least I got a good day of maulifuffing done right at the start of the week.  I can be proud of that.  

How about November?

 

I'm hoping to be busy with my Christmas preparations in November as my ideal is to have very little to do in December.  We'll see!

I've got a couple of craft sessions booked, including a clay workshop.  I don't think I've played with clay since I left primary school so that will be very interesting.

I've booked two nights away so I can meet with friends for lunch.  These two ladies are from different parts of my life and don't know each other, but I usually meet each of them in Newark which is about forty miles away.  I've managed to make dates on two consecutive days so I can stay over rather than drive back.  

My birthday celebrations continue with two afternoon teas and two lunches.  Yum.

I've doctor and physiotherapist appointments, I shall swim, and do anything else I fancy.

Can't be bad.