Away in a manger

This morning I got to go to the oldest grandkids carol service. I was preparing a rant about how her school weren't doing a nativity play and how the true meaning of Christmas has been lost but the school have redeemed themselves. Although I suppose nativity plays must be a chore for teachers and parents alike - apart from the one line your little darling gets to say the rest is irrelevant. I always ended up being an angel, with itchy tinsel wrapped around my head. Apart from the year I was a cloud (a sign that class sizes were on the increase and there weren't enough parts to go round?). I always wanted to be a shepherd, I wanted to sit around in my dressing gown with a tea-stained t-towel on my head! Anyway, the carol service was lovely (apart from the happy-clappy woman who spent too long trying to convince 4 and 5 year olds that when they look at their christmas tree they should remember Jesus dying on the cross and some other miracle that even I, as a good catholic girl, couldn't understand). The little'un was pleased we were there though.

Afterwards we went Christmas shopping - i.e. a two hour lunch and half an hour in the shops before deciding we'd had enough!