Carols

You may recall that I concluded last night’s entry with the sleepy observation that after our exciting day we were going to go straight to sleep.

We had a wonderful day, and by the time I wrote to you we had eaten and showered and were in our dressing gowns ready for bed.

I finished writing my diary with a Disney kitten sort of yawn and then realised that in fact it was only quarter past seven.

We went to bed anyway, and slept a blissful morphia-sleep until the alarm went off twelve hours later.

We had brought our own nice tea and had contented cups of tea in bed before braving breakfast in the economy hotel restaurant, which I can jolly well tell you that we won’t be doing again. There was no melon, no salmon, and you had to get your own coffee. I must have looked horrified at this last discovery, because Mark laughed and laughed, and kept laughing in little snorts all the way through breakfast.

After breakfast, which was actually perfectly edible although deficient in civilised extras, we packed up and left quite quickly. I know I am being unkind about it, it is the hotel’s own fault for having dirty wallpaper around the light switches and coca cola dispensing machines in the hallways.

Fortunately, though, we weren’t actually feeling grumpy or upset, because the bedroom had been quite lovely, and seemed clean, although short of useful things like stationery and shower caps.

We met Nan and Grandad at school for the carol service, we got there early in order to get good seats. Parents all sit on the balcony above the chapel and the girls in the hall below. We were prompt enough to make it to the front row of the balcony, but it was wasted because Lucy had sloped off to the back of the hall and was actually seated comfortably out of sight underneath us. This meant that we did not manage to see her small and determinedly upright rebellions against the enforcement of religious activity, which usually provide us with an entertaining side show.

Of course it was glorious, despite not being able to see Lucy. The chapel was packed to the seams, and it always manages to be a very dignified little ceremony. The choir of girls, robed in their cherry-red Queen Margaret’s cloaks, were at the front, with a distinguished looking row of gowned masters in the centre.

I thought their combined voices were achingly beautiful, soaring over the thunderous organ chords, and I bellowed cheerily along with them when it was allowed. I enjoy a good sing very much. I have been blessed with the ability to produce volume if not exactly quality, and the lovely familiar Christmas carol melodies are splendid even if some of the lyrics can be a bit rubbish.

When it was over we rushed downstairs to hug Lucy and to drink coffee and to look happily at one another because of it being so good to be together again.

We struggled through the crowds of parents and girls laden with trunks and lacrosse sticks and tuck boxes, and stacked all of Lucy’s things in an enormous pile in the boot of the car, before retiring to the peace and quiet of the Thai restaurant across the road for nice wine and some excellent chicken in coconut sauce, and a couple of hours of pre-Christmas good humour.

Of course we had a lovely time, there was hardly anybody else there, and we talked our heads off, and ate heartily. Of course Mark and I had had a pleasingly indulgent breakfast as well, despite the absence of salmon, and by the time we finally got home there was absolutely no likelihood of us making a picnic for work, mostly because we were already outgrowing our trousers.

The happy day was brought to a close by a brief visit from Number One Son-In-Law, along with Ritalin Boy and Ritalin Boy’s Other Grandma. They had brought some Christmas presents and advised us not to leave the explosive ones anywhere where Roger Poopy might be inclined to investigate, which we thought was sensible, since we don’t have much in the way of house insurance.

We drank tea and talked until it was time for work, and we reluctantly dragged ourselves away. It has been a lovely day.

Even being at work feels like being on holiday.

Have a picture of teacups. You have seen teacups before but I forgot to take another picture today.