There's no getting away from it - Christmas is on its way. Nothing annoys me more than seasonal stuff appearing in the shops in September and carols being sung weeks beforehand but I suppose the beginning of December is fair game. And, as we're very nearly there, I did go to a very wet and windy Christmas market in Moreton in Marsh today and actually quite enjoyed it.
But last Sunday friends came to lunch fresh from their traditional "Stir-Up Sunday" morning in the kitchen. If you're not familiar with that - the Sunday next before Advent in the church calendar is traditionally when Christmas puddings are made, though the "stir-up" strictly relates to the opening of the collect for that day, "Stir up, we beseech thee O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people ..." rather than to the culinary activity. It started me thinking about the Christmas puddings of my childhood, made by my maternal (very chapel) grandmother ....
Nanna's Stir-Up Sunday
Her house sanctified
by the scent of cinnamon,
she sings as she stirs,
praising the Lord with puddings,
dropping her widow's mites
into the Christmas treasury,
making her wish -
that the meek
may inherit the earth,
that her children may rise up
and call her blessed,
that their days may be long
in the land.
(Copyright Gill Garrett 2015)
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