Dancing in the street

When I was under the impression my demise was imminent I used to tell people, if they were sorting through my stuff after the event, to look very carefully as I sometimes stash small amounts of cash in odd places. Last night I came across some myself so I was very very grateful...And there was thunder and lightning to celebrate too!

After waking up much too early, and finally going back to sleep when I surfaced again late morning I decided lolling in bed was a fine thing to do on such a dismal day, and was very grateful for the opportunity to do just that. But after a while the thought of the goodies in the farmer's market, and most especially the lunchtime performance of my favourite samba band - a troupe from not far away with many female players that are perhaps a little past the first flush of youth - got me up and dressed in many layers in record time. Last time I saw them play it was in a rather small room in a rather funky pub/club in the city and I was dancing so near the stage when they moved their drumsticks my hair went up and down in the draft. I lost my hearing for three days afterwards...but they are so good it didn't put me off and I was so grateful to get to see them (and hear) them again.

I give thanks for a jolly atmosphere despite the rain, chatting to a few people I know. The usual separate food and craft markets were altogether along the main street, and there was a whole programme of events to enjoy leading up to and after the Christmas light switch on this evening but I give thanks for coming home and scoffing my nosh on the sofa instead. I give thanks for my legs for carrying me with an unusually low amount of protest and for the lovely feeling when you've been out getting cold and damp and come in and strip off and get warm and dry.