Decking and finding the kneeling shepherd

Today was just ... busy. Fragmented and busy. Having ascertained when the flower people (sounds very San Francisco ...) would be "doing" the church for Christmas really with a view to avoiding a clash with a music rehearsal, I realised that it was probably helpful if Di and I did the crèche under the altar at the same time (in case we couldn't find things!), so we rocked up after coffee and set to work. 

Actually it was easier than when the tower was properly in use (before the upstairs floor became too dangerous!) because we didn't have to thunder up and down the winding stair with wise men and camels - to say nothing of the cow and the donkey who are stuck together on the same base and weigh a ton. Once we'd tracked down the backing cloth (the starry night one - the sunrise is for Easter) and the kneeling shepherd boy (he'd strayed in among the Easter characters)  it didn't take long, especially as the dry grass we'd collected last year was neatly in the box with the bubble-wrapped figures and smelled fragrant just like the hay we needed. 

After that the fun began, as I was designated the person most likely to clamber onto the altar and put the (remotely-controlled, battery-operated) candles on the east window ledges. (If you look at the top left photo in the collage, you'll see what I had to do). Then there were windows all down the nave to be decked with baubles and greenery ... and then greenery to add to the candles on high (more clambering). By the time I got home for lunch I was very cold, very damp-nosed from doing all this in a mask, and covered in fine plaster dust and other mysterious deposits.

The rest of the day wasn't so strenuous, but bitty - wrapping the last presents, poaching pears, that sort of thing. But there's a good wee story as well...

... I had heard from my friend Charlie that he was intending to drop a couple of books round for me, probably in the late morning. As I feared I might not be back, and because there was a chance he might just leave the books in the porch, I left the Christmas card for him and his partner on the ledge where he'd leave them. It had a sticky address label on it, from a time when I was recklessly posting even local cards. While I was at the church, the postman left a bunch of post for us in the porch - and removed the one I'd left for Charlie! Rather lovely, though - he delivered it to them an hour or so later. Result! (No - they weren't asked to pay postage ...)

The collage is all of the decking party in the church - the wonderful profusion of flowers, the view down the church from window-ledge level, the shining brass of the eagle, and the stable scene under the altar. And, of course, the excellent women  who make it all happen. And if you've never read any of Barbara Pym's novels, you're missing out on a cultural reference that never fails to make me chuckle.

Have you noticed how all the Christmas movies have started to sprout on the box? Found myself watching Die Hard - have I ever seen how it started before?