Today is Christmas Eve, and for us practically a normal Saturday.
The market is on, the streets relatively quiet actually, and rather than take the car, we walked up to The Abbey this morning. Hubby’s hands were so cold, we stopped on the way for a coffee in the cafe where I met N on Tuesday which is dog friendly.
The Abbey was serene and peaceful, and as the seats had been removed from the Lady Chapel, we went round the corner to Our Lady Queen of Peace to light candles for our Dads, and one for our dear friend in Lincolnshire who died in July.
We were approached by Linda, a member of the clergy, who welcomed us in and made a fuss of Maggie, who was in her element.
Yesterday when we went up to play scrabble, I noticed that MSM didn’t have any fresh flowers other than the remnants of a bunch we’d bought her some time ago, which is most unusual. So on the way back, I went into the supermarket and purchased a colourful bouquet which we delivered on our way home and pleased her immensely.
We have since both had showers and the laundry is in.
Apart from the mother and daughter in the little narrowboat under the trees and possibly two other couples, we are the only ones here. Access to the WIFI is therefore wonderful!
This is one of my favourite memories of Christmas from my adult life.
I was working for the High Street Bank, the year being 1975 or 1976 as I was still living with my parents.
It was Christmas Eve, and as was the norm then, the banks closed at midday and once everything was balanced, we’d be able to leave early.
One of my regular customers owned a bakery that I passed on my way home and I would drop her night safe in to save her having to make a special journey to the bank to collect it.
I would often go home with some buns or rolls at a discounted price if it was late in the day.
I was invited into the shop for a glass of sherry and a mince pie, and to chat with her other customers as they collected their orders or dropped in for a Christmas loaf or pastries.
It was a lovely friendly atmosphere, and most of the customers knew me anyway, but usually from the other side of the cashier window.
I stayed for about an hour I suppose, and when I came out, it was snowing.
It was just like a Dickens scene, and I more or less floated home on a cushion of festive magic and goodwill, let alone the rosy cheeks from the sherry.