It was Christmas Eve, babe

...lyric to a famous song by the Pogues. So my choir sang Night of the Father's Love at Gilnahirk Presbyterian. It was lovely. Then we adjourned to Susan Cooke's house across the street for the annual choir party. I didn't stay too late as the next morning I was headed to Derry for Christmas. Here's Paddy all ready to go.

I arrived in Derry in time to go to 90-year-old Hilda's house for the opening of presents. Four generations of the Browns--14 plus me--opened presents. Most of them for the two wee babies and the youngest cousins. It's great to be there amidst so much love and happiness and gratitude. Then Julie and I took the dogs for a long walk. Then to Julie's sister's, Caroline's, for a big feed. Really just the edible version of all that love and happiness. Tofurkey, amazing stuffing, roast veg, bread sauce, out of this world Christmas pudding (with a choice of lemon sauce, fresh cream, or custard)--I ate until I was uncomfortably full.

We lost big Ronnie this past year. No one was sentimental about it or invoked his name at dinner. Earlier in the day Hilda showed me  a tag he had written years ago that she found at the bottom of a bag: To Hilda with love, Ronnie. Hilda said it made her feel very happy when she found it. I think I would have burst out crying. But then again, marriages are mysterious affairs.

Dec 24-25.