Nativity mayhem and heavy footed hounds

Sunday 1 February 2015

Grey and cold 8 degrees.  Hail later

Sunday is a good place to start the month.  Lazed around in bed, drinking tea.  The local supermarket was absolutely heaving.  It is the only store open on a Sunday in the vicinity and hurrah, they had rice milk in stock.

OH wanted to look at the local river so we drove down a track where the waters could be easily seen from the car but no, we had to go and look at them at closer hand.  The field was an absolute bog, over which the dog floated lightly and we both got covered in mud up to our eyeballs.  OH spotted some ducks and said we needed to creep up on them.  His creeping was thwarted by our heavy footed hound and my shrieking as my boot caught on a bramble and I went splat on my face.  

Back home and lit fires.  Winter is like ground hog day.

Misty wintry landscape and oak tree from Dreamstime

Hunt in old diaries for something amusing:

19 December 1995

RJ’s last day at school, WF’s nativity play at music group.  He was most splendidly kitted out in peacock blue and was a king.  A very silly king at that.  He kept on shuffling off sidewards behind the piano, pulled half of the cotton wool from his crown and decided to stamp on the tambourine.  He squirted the frankincense bottle out from under his arm, and hit the previously placid, smiling child playing Mary, square on the forehead. There was a motley lineup of very small children; some waved, some shuffled, some seemed set in stone.  They sang horribly but fortunately the parents sang even louder so you couldn’t hear the discordant wailing of the chorus.  We then had coffee and mince pies and WF went off stage left to get changed, a large piece of cotton wool dangling pirate style over one eye and the rest in his mitt.

To pottery class in the afternoon.  Wind bitterly cold.  Made small terracotta plate.  Mavis has called it a day on her cat creation.  It now resembles your average size brindled terrier and has an expression that would curdle milk.  Her knees were buckling as she carried towards the kiln room and she was muttering through clenched teeth ‘I’m making something sodding smaller next time’.  Watched Top of the Pops with the kids.  Cher was wearing a particularly gruesome black ruched affair.  ‘She looks like a poodle – a standard poodle’ exclaimed RJ, with sudden insight.

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