Staying up until nearly midnight assembling the powerpoint cabaret slide show (all singing, if not all dancing) for Jo’s wedding on the night the clocks go forward (bear with us in Europe, we’re a bit behind on these things) when there’s church in the morning is probably not the most sensible thing I’ve ever done. Still, it is, mostly, done. There may be some tweaking of the timings on some slides. Some are just pictures, some are somewhat wordy. I also need a version of Elton John singing ‘Chapel of Love’ which doesn’t have the introduction from Four Weddings and a Funeral. Fortunately, N has software that can deal with this. It dealt with Gangnam Style for Brownies (30 seconds required).

Anyhow, we don’t need the bit about being ‘Ready to Face the Enemy’ really. Regardless of how any of us might feel about it. Anyhow, lop off the first 6.93 seconds, and we’re good. Powerpoint refuses to do this for me, and I gave up struggling. Plus, with 33 slides, we need the full 3 mins 34 seconds of Elton. The Shirelles are about a minute shorter (no guitar solo). I’m faintly hysterical: where is the badge (on that note, where are the Who Day badges?)? Should I be printing photos for an album tomorrow (answer, probably, find memory stick and transfer when I’ve finished with this).

Oooh! paternally supplied gin.

So, anyhow, after really not enough sleep at all, and then a rush in the bathroom since my Mum spends about as long in there as a teenager, we had church. Our vicar is a frustrated thespian (question, does he want to rush off and get into his tights, closely followed by the verger who has one of the more amazing combovers known to mankind owing to its sheer fuzziness?). He is keen that the liturgy be theatrical. So, Palm Sunday generally features a donkey (unfortunately, the donkey wasn’t well this year, so they had to pretend) and we begin the Easter service by lighting a fire outside the church and lighting the Paschal Candle from that. We weren’t allowed to cook sausages on the fire (small boy was fairly put out by this), but he did light it with only one match like a boy scout should. Well, until Dad suggested that the fire should be lit by rubbing two wolf cubs together and I died of embarrassment and Mum had turned her hearing aid of so, thank goodness, didn’t hear. We then had lots of leaping about in the service, and he doused us in holy water with the help of a sprig of hyssop. This was not well received by the napping three year old in the front row, who wailed piteously for quite some time, with half the congregation trying not to giggle. She was vaguely mollified by the promise of Easter Eggs (he had a METRE of Easter Eggs), but really was not keen either on the idea of going up to the altar for a blessing, digging her heels in like the most stubborn goat, and squirming into Mum’s lap while he tried to bless her. He was very apologetic. He thought it had gone in her eye, rather than waking her up from a snooze. I think I might take an umbrella next year… Communion was punctuated by trying to poke daffodils into the rough, rude cross, draped in chicken wire, which had been rudely fashioned from last year’s Christmas Tree. It was pretty huge (it was a pretty huge tree). He gave us the glad tidings that the church is currently in surplus for the first time since he started the ministry there – and I think he’s blued the surplus on Prosecco for after the service. Dad took us away from temptation, and we went home via Roald Dahl’s house, to see how far it is from the station. About half a mile, so fine for Brownies to walk there.

Then I went for an exceedingly hilly run, and then I bought a cooker. Please can we all pray that Cannon did not lie, that it is indeed 595mm wide and thus will fit in the gap, and that I will be able to persuade the delivery men to get it up the stairs without having to resort to a Man With A Van. I bought the nice one, with the BIG burner on it, as I’ll miss it if it’s not there, and although I plan to move at some point, not quite yet, and who knows what cooker will land up where. I am very much looking forward to sausages.

I’m also looking forward to catching up on Dr Who (epic fail to watch at the correct hour) and to decompressing a little more.

Here. Have some knitting

xxx

I do sometimes feel that I should just gracefully retire this thing, and have done with it. I don’t post even a quarter as much as I used to, and most of the interaction that my friends and I had on blogs has been replaced by twitter – and this speed of response has enriched my life immensely. Plus I’ve made some new friends that way.

But, my blog is here. I’m here. It’s a useful venting tool, and, occasionally, I have some knitting to share. More often that not, though, that’s on ravelry…

It’s cold, winter seems to have no end in sight (I remember the last time it snowed on my  birthday, it was about 20 years ago), I’m stressed and busy, and I feel like I cannot keep up, that I have perpetually forgotten something. I inadvertently offended someone at morris, who upset me immensely by their vehement, out of character, response. That upset that I left practice early. 

I will be glad when Jo’s wedding is done – I’m now singing the responsorial psalm and the gospel response. In addition to everything else. I need to head over to my parents’ soon, there to spend time on the laptop pulling bits of Guidemin and Receptionmin together (please, please, God, let the blinking badge we’ve had made for the reception cabaret turn up in time). I’ve got stuck sitting here, writing nothing of any import, and, goodness, I need a bit more sleep. This won’t happen at my parents: Mum’s hearing is almost entirely kaput, and she likes the telly up loud in the room next to my bedroom. It’s almost easier to fall asleep on the tiny sofa in the sitting room.

Meanwhile, have an article from the Daily Wail about how to get rid of ear worms. It’s the best I can manage right.

xxx