Out in the morning to pick up the Cyprus Sunday Mail. The "brother" is in the upper hallway, clearly working up to say something beyond good morning. "Downstairs. Two minutes. Letter." Right - so I stop by the reception desk on my way back with the newspaper. The brother is there now, eyes fixed on a book or paper in front of him. The letter is there too, a red envelope filling our letter box diagonally. I wait patiently in front of the desk two feet away from, but totally ignored by, the brother, until his left hand creeps up,the forefinger beginning a tentative exploration of the left nostril. "The letter," I say, hoping to get it uncontaminated, and am rewarded by being handed the card - with his right hand.
Down to St Helena's Anglican in the evening for the annual service of the nine lessons and carols. Only ten in the choir, but they do very well, with the rest of us joining in. the usual hazard that those singing old familiars from memory face, since the pc editors have been at the text, so that "man" becomes "all" and such. It's a difficult job given the limitations of rhythm and line length, so it's a relief to see that "born to raise the sons of earth" has perforce been left as is rather than being changed to "kids of earth."
Mulled wine and Christmas food upstairs afterward.
Down to St Helena's Anglican in the evening for the annual service of the nine lessons and carols. Only ten in the choir, but they do very well, with the rest of us joining in. the usual hazard that those singing old familiars from memory face, since the pc editors have been at the text, so that "man" becomes "all" and such. It's a difficult job given the limitations of rhythm and line length, so it's a relief to see that "born to raise the sons of earth" has perforce been left as is rather than being changed to "kids of earth."
Mulled wine and Christmas food upstairs afterward.
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