Ploughing on ...

One of those days when you never seem to stop. Bruce the Builder was back before I'd had my porridge, and by the time I'd cleared up after breakfast he was finished - the mastic was filling the edges of the new plasterwork, the wooden (original) fireplace surround screwed in to the wall with a bracket. The plaster is almost dry, and the decorator has looked and is coming in January. Whew.

Apart from that, I finished wrapping presents and walked up to the church to meet a pal and find the Holy Family. Not as mystical as it sounds - the figures for the Nativity scene were hidden in plastic boxes and bubble wrap in the dank fastnesses of the Tower Room, or, to be more accurate, the ringing chamber. Access to this is by a wooden staircase that has seen better days; I like to step over the top step cos it's squint and I have a horror of being deposited somewhere behind the organ casing below ...

Anyway, we found the correct Mary and the figures we designated as shepherds, though I'm not entirely sure of the oldest man - he could be a disciple from the Easter Garden. As neither of us keeps rabbits, we had no straw to hand, but improvised by pulling handfuls of long dead grass stalks from the older graves that never get mowed because of the stone walls round them. Much hilarity. We found the night sky lurking in a box in the servers' pantry ...

Then home, to restore some order to the bedroom so that we can use it till the painter comes, then to sing with three other musicians in preparation for the Midnight Mass. By the time they left I could barely stand. Mt PB's curry and a glass of wine (not in that order) helped, and I've been dozing over the telly for a bit. But now only bed will do ...

Blipping what I think of as the Vegas angel from my Christmas tree. I don't know where it came from, but suspect it was from an American one-time member of the congregation whose father was a Hollywood actor ...A tad glitzy, but rather fun.