I should be getting my head round the Christmas Day 'thought' but instead I went out to the supermarket to but stuff to bake angels for Christmas Eve and Christmas puds for Christmas Day!

As I went through the check-out my six "serves four" (greedy people? pit workers?) puddings and assorted tubes of coloured icing, it prompted remarks from the girl serving me, and sparked a good conversation between us and the female BB officer from 167th Glasgow who packing my bags.

Six alcohol-free puds should serve the 40+ guests, along with trifles, ice-cream and mince pies.

The last time I found the Christmas Day 'message' this tricky was the year Woolies went under along with various other retailers, and I felt I needed to address that.  This year has a similar feel as austerity bites hard and the most vulnerable in society suffer most.  I have a feeling the lunch will say more than my words ever could...

At the Winter Solstice

by Jane Kenyon

The pines look black in the half-

light of dawn.  Stillness...

While we slept an inch of new snow

simplified the field.  Today of all days

the sun will shine no more

than is strictly necessary.

At the village church last night

the boys - shepherds and wisemen -

pressed close ot the manger in obedience,

wishing only for time to pass;

but the girl dressed as Mary trembled

as she leaned over the pungent hay,

and like the mother of Christ

wondered why she had been chosen.

After the pageant, a ruckus of cards,

presents, and homemade Christmas sweets.

A few of us stayed to clear the bright

scraps and ribbons from the pews,

and lift the pulpit back in place.

When I opened the hundred-year-old Bible

to Luke's account of the Epiphany

black dust from the binding rubbed off

on my hands, and on the altar cloth.