Complete with dangly bits ...

In a way, that sounds like my life just now, full of things I haven't quite done - have left undone those things that I ought to have done, and there is no health in me ...But at least today I did all the things I had in mind to do, and added one extra, so I can go to bed and try to ignore the wind.

After the wildness of last evening, this morning was very bright and startlingly chilly with the breeze now coming from the north. This has the odd effect of making the waves run down the coast towards the pier instead of onshore, so that the little ferry could be seen leaving Dunoon and setting off into the oncoming sea. It wasn't surprising that even the Western Ferries went off in the afternoon. I actually hung out a washing; it was dry when I rescued it at lunchtime, but was beginning to detach itself from the pegs. I also made bread, then parcelled up two copies of my poetry book to send in response to an order from somewhere up north. This necessitated a visit to the Post Office, where I also managed to buy the decent three fruits marmalade that Morrison's seems not to have stocked for months. (The Post Office is in the Co-op; it's not branching out into groceries.) Despite my red fleece hat with the dangly bits on top I thought my face might freeze as I walked there into the rising gale - I thought of wearing my mask for the walk.

The afternoon saw the creation of this year's Advent Wreath in the perishingly cold church. There is an inner and an outer door to the church, but once it was unlocked the outer one was unable to stay closed as the north wind caught it full on, driving dead leaves into the church whenever the inner door was open. This made us speedy, my pal and I, and in less than an hour we'd finished. The result is above, complete with the dangly bits that so intrigued Sally. We were short of the really floaty ones because the tree which supplies them was poorly this year and most of the dangles were beyond our reach. (No, I haven't a clue what kind of tree it is. An evergreen of delicate foliage.) The top of the wreath is crowned by the pink berries that go so well with the pink and purple candles, pushed painfully down into the oasis because of their excessively jaggy twigs. We swept up the remains and threw them down the bank at the west end of the church, then returned to take photos and admire the newly-refurbished stand, which had been hideously rusty after its sojourn in the damp tower.

All this time the wind had been rising, and we were startled by something clattering down the roof above the lectern, as if a slate or a bit of ridging had blown off. (I confess: we forgot to check when we went out. Maybe tomorrow...)

And that was today. Now, at midnight, the rain appears to have stopped, and the moon keeps appearing through ragged shreds of cloud. The windows at the front of the house keep creaking - I may have to hide under the bedcovers. As long as I can't feel the building vibrating - that's happened once before, and I didn't like it!

Hope everyone has their power supply and their roofs intact by morning ...