A merry Christmas to everybody! Make up the fires, and buy another coal scuttle. –Scrooge.

Slow Internet connection, family commitments and laziness have been holding me back from blogging. But all is merry in ole England. I have a cold, but it’s that sort of mild, stuffy, head-feels-like-it’s-in-a-sauna sort of cold that doesn’t make you feel too ill but means that you eat lots of clementines and chocolates.

On Friday evening we attended the carol service at Kingston Seymour village church. It was a really nippy night, but pretty, as we walked through the misty churchyard into the candlelit church. We sat almost on the transept, so my dad could point out various elderly and obscure relations to me as they came in. We sang lots of old favourites, and they had usual comforting old scripture readings from Isaiah and the Gospels, as well as some John Betjeman. We had mince pies and tea at the village hall afterwards, courtesy of the Young Farmers Association.

It’s been cold and grey and foggy for days, but this morning was crisp and pale-gold. I decorated the tree, which we bought from a dark, curly-haired gypsy with scars on his face. At church, kids were wearing the traditional tea towels etc on their heads for nativity scenes-- little Mary kept losing her blue headdress. On they way home, Kylie was playing her favourite Christmas songs on the radio, the snail was on the thorn, and all was pretty much right in the world.

I think I shall go and have another mince pie.