Candlemas Day

‘If Candlemas day be fair and bright,

Winter will have another fight,

If Candlemas Day brings cold and rain,

Winter won’t come again’.

I return to the blogosphere on Candlemas Day. The ancient festival marking the winter midpoint – halfway between the shortest day and the spring equinox.

Montmorency and Sister P continue to hog the rug in front of the log burner and can’t even be persuaded to go out and stand guard over the mole hills.

The rats have long gone but the moles have taken up residence. The muntjac, meanwhile, have eaten all the snowdrops.

It has been a jolly January though. Ski-ing in Zell with Mother Superior and the Von Trappes, a rousing Twelfth Night Supper at Stepple Hall, a flying visit from Mad Aunt Sue and, last night, a candlelit winefest with the slummy mummies.

The Actress has been away for the season, in rehearsals for a period drama in which she will appear as a dowager duchess. Despite being as thin as a besom, she has vowed never again to suffer the confines of a corset.

“It was hellish,”she muttered, dipping her eggy bread into her Guinness. “The war paint, the wig and the blasted whalebone. Never again.

“The director said I reminded him of Maggie Smith with tits,”