Oh dear, it is gone 2 am on Christmas morning and I am procrastinating about the million pressies I still have to wrap, thus blogging is a shameful distraction! My normal pattern on Christmas Eve is to promise to go to Midnight Mass - then realise I am not going to get wrapped in time and pull out, listening to the radio or TV version whilst wrestling with the blessed sellotape! I rarely finish before 3 and in the days when my darlings got up at 5 (or earlier) this meant Christmas Day was somewhat of a struggle. In those days I would tiptoe into their bedrooms, willing them not to wake.
This evening my daughter Lara (who turned 21 on Wednesday and now has a daughter of her own, Sumaiyah) and I were reminiscing. About the time her brother Ravi (aged about 6), determined to "catch" Santa. He laid a trap. He used a whole roll of that blessed sellotape and sellotaped his Christmas "sack" (where Santa was supposed to deposit his pressies) to his head, presumably thinking that when said pressies were deposited it would wake him up. He also piled all his most noisy toys up under the door handle so that when I turned it they all came tumbling down! Lara was trying to convey the magic of her childhood belief in Santa to her Muslim partner Nafis who celebrated Christmas with us for the first time last year. Ravi, in the background, was bemoaning the fact it was all her fault he stopped believing in the first place!
Anyway, it has all gone a bit differently this year. Lara, Sumaiyah and I went to Luton for a Christmas service at my family church where my brother and two of my nieces were taking part. On the way home we made a detour to try and buy Halal chicken so that Nafis has something to eat tomorrow, but everywhere was closed and we arrived home a tad late. So, as I settled down to..............er...........not wrapping (!) I got a call from my favourite Tory boy Andrew McConnell who has apparently incurred the wrath of a Labour Transport minister. He promised to save me a seat at St Paul's for Midnight Mass, though he was a bit fed up as he has done this before and I haven't materialised.
But, I dutifully left home at the prescribed time, I walked along the glorious embankment, was in sight of St Paul's when my phone rang. "Mum, where are you?" "On the embankment" "I've forgotten my key can you meet me back home?" Why am I such a soft touch?! But, I made it, in time. And it was a really lovely service, I had intended to head straight home and wrapping but Andrew asked if I would go for a quick drink with him, I hesitated........... Later, as I walked home I passed our Polish Church St Cuthbert's(actually my nearest) at about 1.15 (their service is clearly a lot longer than ours!) as they were leaving, the place was overflowing.
So, here I am, still procrastinating..........
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