Light on the Old Town Hall

The Old Town Hall is in Stroud Shambles, the market place that leads to St Laurence's churchyard.
Friend J and I visited the Christmas tree festival in the church. It wasn't as filled with trees as usual, and the lights were kept on because there was a choral concert of sorts being held. Thus, the trees didn't look and twinkly as usual. I was a little underwhelmed. Shame.

Afterwards, we went to a couple of shops and a cafe. The one that J chose had a large, drunken party going on upstairs. We moved as far away from them as possible. Today, however, is the day that the metaphorical sh*t has hit the fan, with the UK government no longer able to deny that a party was held at No.10 Downing Street on 18 December last year, when London was in Level 2 Lockdown. The leader of the Scottish Nationalist Party has called for Boris Johnson's resignation. This won't happen, but other heads have rolled. What a bunch of sleazeballs. I'm disgusted with our UK government. Prime Minister's question time was very entertaining, though.

What else? I made some ginger biscuits (gf) for us, because the ones I'd made with the boys yesterday were good. Now I'm wondering if I can make a kind of cheesecake with those as a base. Seems a shame to smash them up, though. Might as well buy an alternative.
I've got some cream for my face, which appears to have some kind of rosacea. It still hurts, but not as much as it's done for the past two days. The cream looks a bit alarming, and appears to be made of beeswax. I'll provide updates. The worst thing that can happen is that I'll turn into a giant bee (anyone else remember the Royal Jelly story by Ronald Dahl, from the Tales of the Unexpected series?)