Last Sunday evening, hundreds of candles glimmered as our church held its annual service of nine lessons and carols.
The readings recreate the wonder of the Christmas Story and everybody joins in to belt out the much-loved carols.
Folks wear Christmas jumpers and Bill gives it some wellie on the organ.
It is one of the landmarks of our Christmas.
|Putting up Christmas lights, Cornish style.|
We are trying not to be dictatorial parents, but we had spotted the fact that all the offspring might possibly be back for the carol service, and we were allowing a little flame of hope to kindle…
Pascoe was joining us from London, Carenza was coming back from Will’s and Perran was getting a lift from Bristol.
During the day, we got updates from each of them and it began to remind me of a cheesy American film, about people getting home for Thanksgiving/Christmas.
In the end, Pascoe was with us in good time, Carenza slipped into the seat we had saved at the very last moment. But Perran was still en route – his lift wasn’t ready to set off until quite late. Plus there was something about a DJ forcing him and his friends to go out clubbing until 6 that morning. Didn’t quite follow that story. Don’t think I was meant to.
However, even though we didn’t quite all get to the Carols, everybody was home for dinner, which was brilliant. Enough to keep me going until we are all reunited once more for Christmas itself.