The Poppet threw the most almighty tempest as we sat in St Mary's cathedral and we left ignominiously. I've promised myself that next year I'll do better by the children, because really with all the turmoil, change and sickness this year a few tempests (even at very inopportune moments) are the least to be expected.
Lunch was a feast, a bounty of plenty, thought over (not by me - we were very spoilt) for months, and afterwards Beloved and I slipped out with Littlest for a walk in the crisp chill air and the deserted grey streets.
We made our way to the foot of the castle, our red nosed, red cheeked babe peering around inquisitively, then I went on a 'character' walk to show Beloved the square where my character, Jeannie, lived in 1801.
Christmas trees glowed from so many windows, sharing good cheer and illuminating the already darkening world. (It was going on four in the afternoon.) I imagined a world lit by candle-light and fire light.
Jeannie would not have seen Christmas trees, (a later innovation) but each house (or window?) would have born a candle to welcome the Christ Child in whatever form he might take.
My recent brush with a coal mine fire made me wonder at the fog in the air due to all the chimneys smoking. (Note to self - peat? coal? wood?)
And my Beloved and I held hands and walked together through the Christmas tree and light bedecked streets and felt very, very blessed.