Woolly singers

This singer's head was distinctly woolly this morning after a strangely curtailed sleep which was probably down to having eaten too late last night - can't do it any more! However, in the interests of curtailing my social mixing before Christmas I'd already given my apologies for the Pilates class, opting instead to read in bed with my morning tea, luxuriate in the shower, and not be finished breakfast till 10am - like a properly retired person! 

Spent the morning, or what was left of it, sorting out music that I'd left lying yesterday, organising an address I'd mislaid, and popping out with a card and present that I'd had with me at the carols yesterday but hadn't been able to hand over because everything just became too hectic. This gave me a legitimate reason to have a short but very brisk walk (got my heart rate up to 111 bpm (from 63, if you're fascinated) and some fresh air - as well as a wee chat in the garden with the person to whom I was delivering. 

After lunch and a read of the Sunday papers I made my Christmas pudding (it's not one that needs to mature, but an old 7 cup pudding recipe from my Grandmother's cook book) and did the Christmas tree. This was a horrid first for us, because for the first time in my life  it's not a real one . Partly this is because they sell out so early these days, before we're even ready to think about buying one, and because last year's was so enormous it caused us real problems. But the real reason I succumbed is that I seem to have become allergic to ... trees? Conifers? Fungus associated with them? I don't know, but for the last few years I've suffered from sore, watery eyes and a cough after putting up the tree, symptoms which were only beginning to go after it had been up for a couple of weeks - in other words, just before we removed it again. (I also had a sore throat last Friday after my walk in the woods of the Bishop's Glen ...)

Blipping the delightful woolly singers that two of the choir had bought for all of us in 8+1 and handed out to us before the service yesterday. The lovely thing is that they were being sold for a charity supporting research into muscular dystrophy, and had been spotted in Calendar by a friend. The sheer crazy joy of it encapsulated the feeling among the singers, I think. Last night's choir chat was full of photos of singing mice perched on pianos and under trees. You will note that Himself got a male mouse.

I really need to ice my cake soon, but not tonight...