We are finally feeling festive here.
The last few days we have driven along a Winter Wonderland from Hayes Knoll to Cricklade, dazzled by the whiteness. Much better than the wet, though the single skien bathroom in the lean-to has killed any literary toilet habits (we will soon be breaking the ice in the pan before we wee).
J broke up from school yesterday. I went to the end-of-term carol service in St Sampson’s in Cricklade. He was, of course, the only child without his Sunday Best Blazer that morning, necessitating another manic drive across the Wootton Bassett plains.
I almost stayed off my cough, armed with a bottle of water and lethal doses of Fishermen’s Friends. The alternative plan (sitting on the end and discretely leaving if a coughing fit threatened) was thwarted by my becoming wedged in by a precariously stacked mountain of hassocks and Mr J and his squad of prefects patrolling the door for late-comers.
What’s worse, mother with hacking cough interrupting angelic chorister or mother collapsing (very publicly) into nativity display?
Any way, we got through it, enjoyed the carols and the mince pies. Now Junior and I are catching up on all the important things. Nintendo Level 3, in his case, Guardian Shorts on my Kindle (me).
We have also written the annual “Round Robin” and now I am (more or less) vertical will endeavour to find a way to put it on the blog. Probably as a page so those who wish can avoid the annual bland….despite a very busy year, I reread it and wondered, is that all we did?