Christmas Day in pictures

Christmas Eve: a Skype chat with my parents, a candlelit carol service and a glass of sherry and a piece of Christmas cake to round it all off.

(The sherry purchased with some difficulty from the local liquor store: "Chevy? Like the car?" and finally located in a dusty corner on the bottom shelf. Not a popular tipple here, then.)

Toby helps Dad unwrap his Christmas presents.

Look! A new book!

Santa? Are you in there?

Someone forgot to put ice cream on this scoop!

Brrrmm, brrrrmmm! Toby loves trucks!

Our Advent calendar, which featured something to add to the tree each day, and is the only one I've seen with twenty-five doors - the large star on top was our Christmas Day treat.

Lamb is a rarity here, so lamb shanks were our treat for Christmas dinner.

Look at me in my new hoodie!

Look at me in my new down bodywarmer!

Gotta have a trip to the playground even if it is Christmas Day.

Christmas tea was cheese and crackers...

...and more cake, of course!

Christmas bedtime story. Will Mum or Toby fall asleep first?

Comments

The Churnet Way: a wonderful walk

The loop from Oakamoor to Froghall and back was one of the most enjoyable walks I've done in a long time. It had a bit of everything: woods, ponds, rivers and railways; steep climbs and sweeping views; an unusual church, an ex-industrial wharf, and, as a final bonus, car parks with toilets. Of course, the sunny weather helped too. I parked in Oakamoor and set off along a quiet lane called Stoney Dale. This is the route of the Churnet Way, which deviates away from the river for a couple of miles. After a while I turned right and climbed up through the woods on a gravelly path, then dropped down to the B5417. a spring in Oakamoor Crossing the road, I entered Hawksmoor Nature Reserve. It has some fine gateposts commemorating John Richard Beech Masefield, "a great naturalist". I found a photo of the opening of the gateway in 1933; unsurprisingly, the trees have grown a lot since then! A track took me down through the woods to East Wall Farm. Lovely view! Nice duck pond as

The Churnet Way: bells at Alton

Alton village and Alton Towers are perched on opposite banks of the Churnet, with the river cutting a deep valley between them. Most people drive straight through the village on the way to the theme park. But I have a great liking for walks and no fondness at all for rollercoasters, so I found a large layby to park in at Town End, in Alton, and pulled on my boots. The church bells were ringing as I set off. I vaguely wondered if there was an event. A wedding? Unlikely on a Tuesday morning. Maybe a funeral. I followed a footpath across a few fields to reach Saltersford Lane. This was the width of a single-track road, but mostly overgrown and muddy. I was grateful for the strip of stone flags (and some more modern concrete slabs) which provided a dry surface to walk on. Presently I came out into some fields and dropped down a slope to the old railway line, at the point where I left it on my previous walk . bit of old rail There followed several miles of walking along the railway path.

The Very Persistent Widow, or, We're Going on a Judge Hunt

Image by Pexels from Pixabay At church this morning I was leading the kids group for the five- to seven-year olds. We are studying parables at the moment - the short and punchy stories that Jesus told. Today's was about the persistent widow, who kept on going to the judge's house to demand justice. As I read it, echoes of The Very Hungry Caterpillar came into my head: "...and he was STILL hungry!" as well as images from We're Going on a Bear Hunt: "Mud! Thick, oozy mud!" So here is the version of The Persistent Widow that Jesus would, I am sure, have told, if his audience had been a group of infant school kids. They seemed to enjoy it. I hope you do too. If you have a small child to help with the knocks and the "No!"s, so much the better. The Very Persistent Widow Lydia was a widow. That means her husband had died. She didn’t have any children, so she lived all by herself. Now someone had done something wrong to Lydia. Maybe someone had

Martha's Marvellous Munchies

Search This Blog