Hey, I’m finally back after my totally unplanned blogging break! After the stomach bug I went down with a terrible cold (I always feel a complete wimp when slain by the common cold, it seems so unreasonable that a cold can make us feel quite so ill) which is still lingering in my chest and which I managed to pass on to a fair proportion of the choir (very generous of me we all agreed). My mother has also been staying for the past week which has been nice but I haven’t even been able to read my post. I am behind on everything (so what else is new?), I even have shopping bought last week which I still haven’t put away. As is so often the case, with most of the things I need to do there is something else I need to do first before I can tackle them. I am also feeling very much like a headless chicken as I run around the house wondering where to start first (take deep breaths, deep breaths).
Despite my feeling very much under the weather we had a lovely Christmas. I did enjoy Christmas day. All the food came out well (at least as far as I could tell with no sense of smell! – no complaints from anyone else, anyway). Our Christmas pudding was fine – Leigh Anne installed such a paranoia in me I feared it would exploded when I poured on the brandy and lit it, but all went smoothly. (One of my mother’s puddings once caught fire, smoldering from deep in the inside much in the manner of an underground peat fire – I managed to avoid a repeat).
New Year doesn’t really register much for me, I’m not a fan of it and don’t quite see the point, which seeing that I’m Scottish does seem to shock people. My feelings stem not so much from any rational thought, but more from having been through far too many extremely unpleasant New Year’s Eves. My father was an alcoholic and staying up past midnight with a party atmosphere gives much too much time for some serious drinking to go on. I’ve had some pretty ghastly New Year’s Eves as an adult too, so I’m kind of allergic to it. That said, if you are going to see in the New Year what better way to do it than on bended knee before the Lord and that is what our Church here does in a (“watchnight”) service attended almost only by the black half of our congregation. I have to confess that I went to bed not to Church, ignoring the New Year completely. I find too midnight services within a week more than I can handle (perhaps I should also say that if I am any more sleep deprived than my current bout of insomnia is leaving me I become more than anyone else can handle).
Epiphany we celebrated a day early at home so we could feast with my mother, and a day late at Church so it could be kept on the Sunday. Since Epiphany is also when I take the decorations down the house is now looking slightly bare, although the Christmas tree is still in the living room waiting for my husband to move it. In the meantime, I’m snipping bits off to use as kindling.