A cold and hot day

Here is a picture of the Christmas Cake Rebecca made – very artistic, as you can see. And a picture of Rebecca the child admiring the Christmas Cake I made many, many years ago when we lived in Ireland. Not so artistic, as you can also see.
It is the third day of Christmas, so I can still tell of Christmas adventures. I must add here, that while I have a warm heart, I am a cold person and I do not tolerate heat well at all. When I am in Hawaii with the aunties, I whine incessantly about the hot weather. I only closed my bedroom window a few days ago, in honor of the snow and in deference to the rest of the household, and plan to open it again soon. Maybe even when I finish writing this! I consider a balmy (to everyone else) seventy degree day to be oppressively hot, if not sweltering. This boring insight will shed light on my Christmas eve ordeal.
We live about a mile from the Cathedral, and as it was very snowy and very cold, Rachael and I dressed very warmly for our trek there for Midnight Mass, and when we arrived, what to wear under our choir robes was a though decision. I was thinking that at Midnight Mass people left their coats on, and it would probably be chilly in the huge building, so I left on more than I usually do. A big mistake. Our robes are two layers, and quite warm at any time, (click here to see) and I should have known better. I had on my woolly stockings, a petticoat, a wool skirt, a silk undershirt, as well as the usual underwear essentials. The rehearsal was tolerable as that room really is cold most of the time. Our first few songs were also tolerable, but halfway through the Carol Service which preceded Midnight Mass, I was sure I was going to pass out. Things were wobbling in front of my eyes, and my head felt light. I slipped out of the formation and went outside and breathed in the lovely cold for a few minutes. Thinking I was recovered, I slipped back in as the Women’s Schola was processing upstairs into the gallery where it was REALLY hot. I lasted about five minutes there before the wobbles and wooziness returned. What to do? I crept out of the gallery, found a discrete closet and took off all the clothes under my choir robes except the essentials. I hid my clothes under a bench. Then I crept downstairs to the bride’s dressing room and doused my face in cold water. Much better. I crept back upstairs and rejoined my group. I was a little worried about my clothes, as I am not so averse to warmth that I would not have been quite unhappy to go home without them. Fortunately they were waiting for me when the Mass was over. And no one was the wiser, until now that you know, of course.