Lots of excitement chez nous. The roof is finished. We have a beautiful new front door, one that closes without slamming and, better still, lets in light. And we have a floor-to-ceiling window with a glazed back door filling the south-facing livingroom wall, giving us a superb view of the island and the Scottish coast away in the distance. The house is - finally - warm. They have also replaced the manky strand of wire that marked the garden boundaries with a proper wooden fence that makes the garden look like the little house on the prairie and hopefully will enable us to grow something next year. (Whatever thrives on the Siberian tundra.)
My first civic appointment this past week! I was asked to coach the little girls who were St Lucy and her attendants as part of the tree-lighting ceremony, a major production number with visitors from the Norwegian town that donates the Kirkwall tree, numerous musicians, a choir of tinies and assorted civic dignitories. All went well. St Lucy looked suitably angelic and spoke up as instructed, the fainter failed to pass out (my main concern) and the rain held off till after it was all over. Bill and I decided to stay the night in Kirkwall so we could go to church the next morning, me because I wanted to and Bill because he wanted to liaise with the vicar re: the wedding, but even he was impressed by the sight of The Bishop in full fig standing outside the church to greet the congregation. He looked most impressive and gave a good sermon, although Bishop Bob is a less than dignified name, I feel.
The problem with staying overnight, apart from the vast expense (we could have had a weekend in Paris for less) is that you can't get home till Sunday night, but the weather wasn't too grim, so after a nostalgic tour of Woolies, we drove to Skara Brae, where Historic Scotland was holding a free drink+end of season sale in the visitor centre and we were able to tour the oldest settlement in Europe on our own.
Only a few more days to go till we break up - can't come soon enough. I'm shattered. Christmas in Londinium - hooray! If I don't get back to the computer before then, hope you all (although I fear my readership is now down to 2) have a great Christmas. Finally, Lorraine's joke:
Did you hear about the dyslexic devil-worshipper? He sold his soul to Santa.
