Waxing and waning

Well, that was Christmas. I hope that anyone reading this had a lovely time. Ours was busy, but good. Daughter 2 and her husband and Littlest Granddaughter came up from London and my brother, wife and their daughter came up from Cambridge. Here are Littlest and Biggest Granddaughters on a climbing wall before Christmas. 

And here is Littlest playing with her robot dog, which was her main present. We had both daughters and families (12 of us) on Christmas Day, and Son and family came down on Boxing Day (so 16 of us). 

We've done nothing spectacular: eaten a fair bit, talked a lot, gone for some walks - that sort of thing. Here are some of us at the Botanics. See that chap in a blue jacket at the end of the path? That's Biggest Grandson. He's growing fast! Where is that enchanting squashy baby who made me a granny?

Daughter 2 and family left the day before yesterday to go down to Nottingham, where SIL 2's parents live. And Niece left yesterday afternoon. So the party is shrinking, which is sad but peaceful. 

Nearly the end of 2024, then. That was a quick year. Still, we're still alive and well, so we have a lot to be grateful for. 

 

Good times, rolling

After a couple of quiet weeks, I went over the water (this is North Queensferry) to Dundee, to meet up with Mr L's cousin (he has a selection of these) and go to the kimono exhibition at the Dundee Victoria and Albert museum. 

It was very interesting. This kimono was made between 1800 and 1860. The embroidery was amazingly detailed. 

This was made between 1680 and 1705. Isn't it amazing condition, considering its age? It has characters on it which refer to a poem about the mountain rose or yamabuki: 

Were even a single flower

On the double-flowered yamabuki

In my garden

To remain,

It would be reminder of spring. 

(Yes, I know what you mean, poet - and this was from a collection of poems compiled by the Emperor Kazan in about 1005. We don't really change, do we?)

I did wonder why some of the pattern matching on the joins of the beautiful kimonos was slightly wonky, but then it turns out that the pieces are cut, then embroidered, then joined together. As below.

So that's why. In fact, it's a miracle that they match as well as they do, considering that it's all pre-decorated. Wow. 

Then last night I went with Daughter 1 and the Edinburgh Two to the Botanics light show, because we almost always do. It's so nice that the grandchildren still want to go. I savour every moment of their company, because they're growing up, and will soon not need to be taken places. 

Big Grandson is at least a head taller than me now, and has a nice group of school friends with whom he does stuff. I'm sure they're much more interesting to him than his granny, but he still comes round to see us. 

This is what the little greenhouse looked like, lit up. 

It was all very pretty. 

Then today we went back up to Dundee, to spend time with Son and his little Unbloggables. So lovely.

And now I should be getting ready for the arrival of Daughter 2, her husband and Littlest Granddaughter tomorrow, and my brother, sister-in-law and niece on Monday. Let the good times roll!
 

Light and colour

Life is busy but uneventful at the moment - which isn't a bad thing, but isn't exciting. This week has mainly featured the writing of Christmas cards, of which we still send quite a lot. Our offspring send far fewer, I suppose because of Facebook and so on. It's quite time-consuming because I tend to write little bits of news in cards for people I haven't seen for a while, because otherwise, what's the point?

Big Grandson, now 13 and towering over me, sends us lots of photos of buses (he's very very into transport of any kind) but also photos of beautiful skies on his way to school, which is nice. As above. 

We went to the Botanics - not newsworthy but always lovely - on a sunny day. It's the "very dead of winter", as TS Eliot says in "The Journey of the Magi", which I always think about in December, when the garden is mainly a heap of brown sticks. But this cotoneaster was a wonderful splash of colour. 

And the gardens are set out for their walk of lights, which we always enjoy. Daughter 1 and I are going with the Edinburgh Two on Saturday night. Those candles are a bit surreal but do cheer the place up, even during the day. 

A sparkly robin, or something of the sort. 

And a stained-glass "greenhouse" - not sure that would work. 

And here's my favourite tree, lit up by the sunshine like a candle. I can never remember what it is - a cedar? - but in summer it's covered with frothy pale green coniferish leaves. I'm sure I have photos of it at different times of year but can't find one at the moment. 

And now I'm off to Dunfermline Abbey to take part in a carol marathon. Better get myself going.

 

Ding dong merrily on high

I've been very busy, but in a mainly choir-related way. I'm a member of two choirs, and both had carol concerts last week. I have had quite a lot of organising to do for one of them, and as well as that I had rehearsals on Thursday evening, Friday afternoon and Saturday afternoon, and concerts on Friday and Saturday evenings. This was quite hard on a) the brain, b) the back and legs and c) the voice. But it was all quite fun. As a result, I have nothing interesting to report, but - this isn't very interesting, but it's all I've got - Jubilo, the choir of which I am now the chair, used to have a banner which became obsolete, so I commissioned a new one (designed by a committee, hmm, but it turned out ok) to advertise our concert. It's reusable - we just stick another (plasticated) poster on the top for next time. This was much more faff than it sounds, but there it is on the fence outside St Cuthbert's Church, our venue. Can you see Edinburgh Castle in the background? 

Did it bring in any extra audience members? Well, at least two, which I know because they were very nice South African tourists who saw the banner and came to the concert. They came very early, which is how I became aware of them. Their presence may have had something to do with the fact that it was pouring rain at the time; who knows? 

Mr L kindly put the banner up with cable ties earlier this week, and after the concert, when it was still Biblically pounding down, he even more kindly took it down, in the dark and (very) wet, slicing his finger while cutting the ties. He's a very good chap. 

The other choir, at which I am just an ordinary member, had four of the same carols as Jubilo in its programme, which made it easier for me, though also slightly confusing, since we performed them slightly differently at each choir. For example, sometimes the men sang verse two alone (or we all sang it) or we had to get louder in one bit (or not), or we had to sing things legato (or staccato). And so on.

The other choir is The Seven Hills Chorus (Edinburgh is reputedly built on seven hills like Rome, though there are really more). This is their banner and it's an indoor one, displayed in the hall where we give our audience drinks and mince pies. It's there for the purposes of recruitment. 

And that's been my life this week. Next week - Christmas preparations. 

PS I was surprised that Margaret doesn't know what "faff" means. I hadn't realised that it was a British English word. It just means "bother", in the sense of having various minor but time-consuming things to do, though as a verb - when you're faffing around - you're doing these things inefficiently. The Scottish equivalent, or at least near equivalent, is "footer". Eg, "I haven't got time to footer around with that", or "I'm going to string fairy lights round the doors but it's a bit of a footer."