Clarissa et al.

It's good to reflect at the end of the year, and my reflections have nearly every year resulted in the same conclusion: "Aren't I lucky!" I suppose saying things like that could be said by some to be tempting fate, but - whatever the future holds - you can't take away the past: I have a fantastic father, nice (if strange) family, and great friends; I live in a lovely place (I recently found a website with county by county the loveliest places in England, and discovered that my house, my place of work and the view from the house I lived in as a small child all featured in the fifty or so photographs of Beautiful Lincolnshire); and I work (not too many hours) at a job I love with colleagues I like. I could do with a bigger bank balance and a smaller waistline, but who couldn't? And I'm not making any resolutions about either, so there! I could resolve to be more cynical, but I know that Pollyanna would keep on breaking through.

So, what's different this year? Well, up to September it was a great year, but September, October and November had some serious low points, followed by a pretty nice December.

The new arrivals this year are Tilly Ann Maisie Grace (my friend Inge's baby), my newest little cousin (twice removed) Carter Liam, and Jessie's puppy Rowan.

Here they all are with their mummies.

What made the three autumn months so bad were the deaths of Uncle Frans (my father's brother) and Cally (my cat) - both were, at 83 and 18 respectively, full of years and had been ailing for a while - but far more shocking was the death of Daphne (my sister's sister-in-law) in a car accident aged 56.

Back on a more cheerful note is that today my eldest godson, Rick, is marrying Kris. (Update January 1st: wedding pictures now added to blog) This is the civil ceremony in Fiji where they live: the big fat Greek wedding with loads of guests comes later in Detroit.

In the family Shelagh married David, Neil married Heidi, and Angie married Jesse (pictured with daughter Kory). And Peter got engaged to Sally. Jan 2nd: Just added - another Richard (son of friend and colleague Hilary) got engaged to Caroline at New Year.

God-daughter Jenni became a teenager, Jacob and Emma both turned 18 (as did my lovely Cally), while Nicky and Issy both had significant birthdays at 50 and 40 respectively. Glen also turned 50, and the aged parent 80. Uncle Peter and Auntie Barbara celebrated their Diamond Wedding, while Liz and Ed notched up half those years with their Pearl anniversary.

So that's it: a year with far more ups than downs, and ending on a high note.

May 2007 be a good one for you.

Today I took Jacob, Josh and Jess to Donna Nook to see the seals. We should probably have gone a month ago when the breeding colony is at its largest and before the human colony arrives in such vast numbers. It is one of this country's greatest wildlife spectacles (seals, not humans) and a huge success story with births in single figures back in the 1970s rising steadily to this year's record level of over 1,000.

Aaah!

Christmas Day started with Midnight Mass - or nearly since we are currently without a rector and Ian, the Rural Dean, came at 10 o'clock for what may be termed First Mass of Christmas before going on to his own parish church for Midnight Mass. At this earlier time there were none of the young bar staff, cooks and waiters from the local pub as there were last year - nor local drunks and their dog - which is a shame, just the regulars and a few extras.

The morning service in the next village was also pretty well attended with the full range of ages in the congregation; it was at 11.15 and Ian's ninth service in the space of 28 hours since early communion on Sunday (Christmas Eve). Is this a record? Should he have a place in the Guinness Book? Should the Bishop reconsider his stance on communion by extension? Is Ian a saint or a martyr? Certainly the latter - he was already croaky by midnight, and seriously hoarse by midday.

For the rest, we followed tradition at home - presents in the morning (before church this year), lunch 1.30 (everything cooked to exactly right degree at the same time, white wine chilled, red wine chambre, crackers remembered, and most of the pans washed up before we sat down), the Queen 3.00, and slob out with turkey sandwiches and cake in front of the fire in the evening. Unusually we had no guests for lunch this year unless you count Joe who (rightly) considers us more civilised luncheon companions than his brothers and me a better cook than my sister. I'm still not sure that he should desert his family, but Helen and Glen say that it is up to him, so I'm not going to argue.

On the other hand we have had visitors both before and after Christmas: Inge and Tilly (briefly and without the boys who are with their father) on the 22nd followed by Isabel and the girls for afternoon tea; Liz and Ed for dinner on the 23rd, and the (Christmas?) Carrolls for high tea on Christmas Eve. My increasingly wild nephews gate-crashed on these, so it is amazing that there is anything left to eat in the house. James and Hannah who are the same age as Josh and Jess egged the others on to a remarkable degree of silliness all round. OK, 15 year old boys are 15 year old boys and at least these two speak in whole sentences, detach from their MP3 players and mobile phones for quite long periods, and sit down to meals in a manner nearer to civilised dining than chimps' teaparty - although in Josh's case this last is a close call, but Jess and Hannah are usually both remarkably sensible and civilised young ladies, however the silliness Christmas crackers, lighted candles and big brothers tp lead them astray can lead to is remarkable to behold (and none of it the obvious and dangerous lighting of the one with the other).

Today's brief visit by Carolyn was unenlivened by any such silliness, and we were able to chat sensibly without competition from either the television or a human cabaret.

Am I complaining? Well, just a little, but I do love them all to bits.

My Christmas presents this year were bathroom friendly: towels, fancy soaps and scented candles - all very welcome - plus assorted edibles (a few chocolates, some jam, some biscuits, some mulled wine), a pretty box, and the paella I wanted, plus the 4 bog-standard (Tesco value) wine glasses which I mentioned to Helen that I needed to bring numbers up to a reasonable level. I have some very nice engraved glasses but I much prefer the sort you can put in the dishwasher without worry. However there were no books except the loan of Helen's new Dick Francis, and I gave books to nearly everyone!

A very satisfactory Christmas all round.

from the aged parent, the cat and me

Some weeks ago I listed the presents I would like on this blog in the sure knowledge that Liz and Becky would already have done their shopping and that nobody else who gives me presents reads the blog.

I was wrong. A parcel arrived today from Pam. She claims it is sprout trees, but the corner was torn in the post and what's inside looks fluffy and pink and not very sprout-like. Of course it may just be an old towel wrapping a sprout tree, but somehow I don't think so. Besides, I already have two sprout stalks - one bought and one given. (And, Liz, easy though mashed sprouts are to eat, I won't serve them to you on Saturday.) See her blog to find out what this is about.
I am likely to be very pleased when I open it. I am also a bit cross because I thought we didn't do presents and I haven't bought her anything. Shall I rush out now? Maybe a new year present? Birthday in July? Or a goat or something for someone in the Third World?

There was also a letter: congratulations to Peter and Sally who got engaged on top of the Empire State Building (both film fans?) while on holiday.

Then there are cards: today brought cards from Martin and Janice, and Oule. We know several Martins, but which (if any) is married to Janice? And so far as we know we have never met an Oule, let alone got on card exchanging terms with one!

At primary school the autumn term ends with parties, carol services, nativity plays, visits to the panto, visits from Father Christmas, and armsful of carefully made presents, decorations and cards to take home.

At the secondary school Josh and Jess attend they have a disco (something both children dislike), but nothing to do with either the Christian festival or the secular festivities, and the last week is spent going to 'lessons' in which indulgent teachers let the children watch videos of films they have already seen a dozen times at home.

Is it any wonder my sister happily signs the holiday form so that the children can spend a few extra days doing something constructive, enjoyable, healthy and/or useful at home?

In these degenerate days when a marriage lasting thirty minutes is probably accounted an achievement, my best friend is celebrating her Pearl Wedding Anniversary today. Of course she isn't doing this alone - by strange coincidence her husband is celebrating his Pearl Wedding Anniversary too. Liz said that if I told the world that they were Pearls of Friends she would throw up, so I shan't say that.

I forget whether it was Ernie Wise or Eric Morcambe who, when asked how long they had been friends, replied that they had known each other for 35 years of which they had been friends for about 35 minutes. Well I've known Ed for nearly that long (ever since he started going out with my best friend after they met at university) and have liked him from the start. The beginnings of my friendship with Liz were a bit rockier: when we met at Sunday school aged 3 I thought she was very bossy and quite wrong in her assertion that as the tallest in the baby class she had a right to the nicest chair, but gradually over the next 48 years I got used to her to the stage where we must have notched up several hours of friendship at least. (Is that moderate enough not to make you sick, Liz?) And my eldest godson, their son Rick, is very nice too.

Anyway, 30 years ago it was a cold day at St. Giles Church, Scartho and I was wearing a perfectly horrible dress (brown in the fashion of the time with a cross-over bodice which gaped every time I leaned forward), but Liz looked lovely in a dress which she made herself and can still fit into (see her blog) and Ed looked . . . well it was 1976 and here's the photo shamelessly nicked from their website.

So here's to the thirty happy years they have already shared and to the next thirty or more which I hope they will enjoy together!

Now you may up-chuck, Liz!

Best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender-neutral, winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, but with respect for the religious persuasion of others who choose to practice their own religion as well as those who choose not to practice a religion at all; plus, a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2007, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of the other cultures whose contributions have helped make our society great, without regards to the race, creed, color, religious, or sexual preferences of the wishes.

Disclaimer: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for him/herself or others and no responsibility for any unintended emotional stress these greetings may bring to those not caught up in the holiday spirit.

Received today and passed on to you

I posted the last few cards today (except those to people whose new addresses we are hoping will be printed on this year's cards), and Jessie and I decorated the Christmas cakes.

We have a family tradition of the youngest member of the family decorating one of the cakes. For a dozen years from Joe being 2 to Jess being 6 or 7 this resulted in chaotic and overloaded designs, and on one occasion an hilarious video of Josh(4) loading the cake with angels and santas while Jess (18 months) was quietly (and unnoticed until we viewed the tape) nibbling away at the icing round the edge of cake which, when she was standing on a stool, was just level with her mouth.

Nowadays Jess (12) draws a careful design and follows it. This, for Liz, is why it is more fun to make and ice your own cake rather than get one from Tesco.

Jessie's cake to her original design for this year, and my cake, this year's variant on my usual design.

Finished the shopping yesterday - just a parcel of books from Amazon still to arrive.

Marzipanned the cakes this morning.

Sent out all the Christmas letters both email and paper (many of the latter by scout post). I do a round robin which some people love and some people hate: since several people have actually volunteered that they like mine I keep on sending it.

Cards are arriving thick and fast now. By one of those odd coincidences Liz's and her mother's arrived together today. Last year Inge walked in on December 1st, saw a card on the side, and asked who on earth was sad enough to send a card that early? I handed it to her, she opened it and disovered it was from her parents. A truly beautiful moment.

Today is my brother-in-law's 50th birthday.

He is not having a party.

He doesn't do parties, nor does Helen, and - so far as I am aware - hasn't been to one and certainly hasn't given one since their wedding reception twenty-six years ago. The children's christening parties were a combines effort by Glen's mother, my mother and me. And all the parties when the children were young were organised by me.

Despite this the children have put up banners advertising the fact that he is 50 all over the house, and enough friends have found out for there to be a reasonable number of cards and presents. But lying on the sofa covered in dogs, eating salted peanuts and watching telly isn't my idea of celebrating a birthday. But each to his own.

Josh turned up this afternoon with his new friend.

Terrifying!

Well, that was two firsts.

Communion by Extension (or Meals on Wheels as Pam calls it) - something of which our bishop does not approve. It was, the lay reader told me, only a second time in 40 years for him. I think this has to be a way forward: either that or we go back to the practice of regular Morning and Evening Prayer, with Eucharist only on special feasts and fasts, which rather negates what the Church of England has been doing so strenuously for the last half century in bringing our services somewhat closer to those of the Roman Catholic Church.

The other first was a Hellfire sermon. Not the full "Ye are all damn'd" of the seventeenth century, but very firm about the Day of Judgement (which he described as part and parcel of the Second Coming and Christ's Advent promise - the only one not yet fulfilled) and the dividing of the sheep and the goats. Food for thought, and a very different sermon from what I have known previously.

I won't go right back into the mists of time, but over the last 20 years our regulars have delivered:-
Lisbet - academic argument with current affairs illustrations
Ken - kindliness and forgiveness with personal anecdotes
George - carefully prepared essays on the scriptures (usually the day's gospel or epistle)
Doug - beautifully argued and presented theological dissitations
Peter - somewhat narrow Anglican doctrine with occasional diatribes against the ungodliness of modern culture.

So you see, some of us are listening and taking notice. I've even got a favourite over the years: a superb one by a visiting locum about greatness of soul, saints in the modern era and Charles Wesley, and a least favourite "The Egg Sermon" - not actually all that bad especially for a family communion attended by lots of children, just a bit wearing when delivered on Easter day in three (or more) successive years when I was in my teens.

I wish that there was more often time to have a proper discussion after the service, but either it is social chit-chat over coffee, or the priest has to rush off to another service in another village, and the opportunity does not present itself.

I happened to run into Father Christmas on my way into Morrisons yesterday. He was doing his usual pre-Christmas charitable collection so I gave him some money, and asked if I could have a wish. He replied that he would do his best, so I said that what I would really like was Colin Firth and Hugh Grant fighting in the street over me.

I don't hold out much hope. A good few years ago I spotted him delivering cards and asked for Timothy Dalton in my stocking. Previously I had mentioned that Brian Murray wouldn't come amiss, and subsequently a sopping wet Colin Firth has been mentioned. The common factor isn't hard to miss.

So far not one of them has materialised on Christmas morning.

However, I notice a disturbing factor: the fancies of my teenage years were the stars of already ancient black and white films many of them gentlemen of my grandparents' generation, but over the years they have become younger and are now my juniors.

I can imagine what Jess (who does a very good Catherine Tate) would say.

I decided that it was time to give the upstairs a really good clean, and was going great guns at the tidying prior to cleaning.

Then I found the fluff under the radiator. Not any old fluff, but cat hair. Not any old cat hair, but Cally's. Suddenly there were tears in my eyes, and I couldn't bring myself to clear away this last tangible link with her. Will I live forever with lumps of fluff in the darkest corner of the landing, or will father have to deal with them?

The really odd thing is that I am not a cryer in the general run of events. I don't cry over books or films. I don't cry at weddings or funerals. I don't cry when I say goodbye at stations or airports (or more usually our garden gate). But just occasionally something takes me by surprise and I just fill up.

Now both December and Advent are here I feel justified in putting up the Christmas decorations at home. I don't vary them much from year to year, and nephew Joe is a great help here especially as he is a foot taller than I am and doesn't need a stool to put up the paper chains. Some of these are getting a bit tatty, but we chose them twenty years ago when we moved to this house - these are the newer decorations; some of the baubles go back to my childhood, a few back to my parents' and one is reputed to have reached its century.

I have posted my first Christmas present (to Fiji), have written (but not yet printed/e-mailed) the Christmas letter, and ALL my best friends are going to be visiting over Christmas.

I haven't finished my Christmas shopping or booked my slot for Tesco online (Asda still not sorted for our postcode, although they seem to cover postcodes half a mile away in all directions).

Tomorrow I shall do my annual musical extravaganza and 'play' all the carols in the Easiest Tune Books of Christmas Carols. I'm hopelessly bad even with these mashed versions in easy keys with very few notes for the left hand, but it is fun. Years ago, during a power cut, my mother and I discovered we knew all the verses of over 70 carols (mainly in English), and could make vague shots at the first and last verses of several dozen more. Shame about the singing.

Does anyone get the impression that I love Christmas?
You bet I do!

Tuesday

I haven't got round to my music making yet, nor have I hoovered upstairs. On the other hand I have just done a massive order to Amazon which more-or-less completes my Christmas shopping (including a present to me).

Here we have Carter Liam Worden, my cousin Jackie's second grandson, pictured here with 'big' brother Luke.

We spent the afternoon putting greenery into the church ready for our Advent Sunday Carol Service tomorrow afternoon.

Now, I know that Advent is a penitential season when we aren't supposed to put flowers in the church, but the leaves and berries on each window sill do look lovely, and very cheerful and Christmassy.

Sunday Afternoon

Not a huge attendance on this very blowy afternoon - just 10% of the village population which is only a bit above normal for an ordinary Sunday. (Harvest Festival gets 4 or 5 times that number.) I had turned the heating on quite early in the day, but it still wasn't warm enough for some. It was a lovely service though, and a wonderful start to Christmas.

In the brief sermon at this morning's Communion Service we were told the story of a very elaborate christening party where the baby was mislaid before the christening itself only to be discovered forgotten and half hidden under a heap of coats on the spare bed, and reminded of the danger of losing the Christ Child in all the traditions and jollifications of Christmas.