Hark the Herald Angel Sing!

The Mothers Union bake sale after the carol service - the ruck has died down somewhat, 

the dead and those crushed in the scrum have been carted away

Yesterday was a wonderful day, in fact, I'm running out of superlatives. One of the best nights in work in months - robbers captured, damsels rescued, crises averted, conflicts soothed, wrongs righted and all back home in time for tea with no-one needing a trip to the hospital.  One of those shifts that remind me why I joined. Just great. 

Back home for some sleep and then up again to get to the 15.15 carol service at Saint Patrick's Cathedral. It was a great service with three differant choirs, wonderful reading and a wonderfully rumpty-pumpty-pump rendition of "God rest ye Merry Gentlemen." Mrs Kinch is quite right that I don't have two notes to rub together, but there's something about singing in church that lets me forget that I'm an awful singer and just wail away. The turnout was impressive, Cousin Basil who came along with me was quite surprised, though the unkind might attribute that to the fact that the Mothers Union bake sale in aid of the choir was afterwards. They are formidable women and not to be messed with. Cousin Basil and I repaired to a local hostelry laden with cakes, cookies, mini-puddings and all manner of good things. A quiet pint with Mrs Kinch after her work and then home again for a nap and back to work for me. 

What lies within?

In wargaming news, my gift from the wargaming Secret Santa arrived a few days ago and is now ensconced under the tree. Mrs Kinch had been detailed to open the package and wrap the gift, but discovered that Secret Santa had already done the job. 

I had been looking forward to this - but judicious shaking, poking and rattling leads me to believe that it is either a tennis racket or a banjolele. 

The disappointment was so crushing that I had to take solace in song. 

So I'll leave you with Mr B - the Gentleman Rhymer's "Oh Santa!"