Cold Day 23

Boxing Day. Or is it? Some say the day after Christmas is now Boxing Day by tradition; others say that it can only be Boxing Day if it would ordinarily have been a working day. This one will run and run and, frankly, is a bit dull.

I am blogging out of the sheer joy of not being at church at 10.30 on the Sunday after Christmas because my church has been wise enough to cancel all services today, aware that anyone attending would do so only out of a sense of guilt, or puritan discipline.

The mindless vandals (see Christmas Blog) found the one remaining quarry tile in the front garden and flung it through the neighbour's window again on Christmas Eve. They (the neighborus not the vandals) brought it back on Christmas morning. I had previously checked that it was still concreted in but during some work on the guttering (see many previous blogs) on 23/12 and 24/12 the ladder must have dislodged it. I am in danger of being more hated than the vandal who chucked the brick in the first place.

The two most talkative people I know came for Christmas lunch, which made for a fun spectator sport (audator sport?). Good day. Off to my sisters.

Cough almost gone (Day 23) but infected thumb caused by chestnuts throbs a bit.

Question for the next year, or perhaps a two year project. Can you think of a way to say everything that you might have put negatively in a positive way? So, 'Don't put that cup on the table it will make a mark' -which only allows the cup-holder to eliminate one place from their enquiries into where to put it - becomes 'Stick the cup in the kitchen will you?'

Let's ponder. Happy Feast of Stephen. Yesterday I inducted Liz into the small group of people allowed to call me Stephen. After 27 years of marriage I thought she'd earned it. To you though it's Steve, or St. Live with it.