"Subjected to his service Angel Wings"

Yes, well I remembered the quote but had to look it up.  Milton, Paradise Lost.  I studied it at A Level so many years ago but today it was hauled into consciousness.  Although I remembered it as conscripted to his service.  It seemed appropriate..

So, yesterday we had our works Christmas dinner.  A very nice meal indeed crowned by a chocolate tart with caramel icecream.  But in a pub with no alcohol free beer.  I don't have a taste for sweet fizz - I started on ginger beer and a pint of blackcurrant and soda but graduated to a pint of guinness with Christmas dinner. It was going to be a long afternoon!! I'm not very good at "vertical drinking" - and especially feel awkward when the conversation's getting rather slurry around me and the nice lads in the paint shop start giving me one arm hugs....I slide off for a gin and tonic with my colleague/boss in the slightly more sober/older corner and later I think it's time to leave and let them get happily plastered before one of the happy crew spikes my drink!!! All paid for by the firm and something a firm can claim back they tell me.

I make that 3 - 4 units of alcohol in four hours. Which of course is not much but enough to make me feel thoroughly utterly seedy this morning! Heading out to swim and then to spend the very generous Christmas voucher in marks and spencer.  I doze over a saturday early costa coffee and drift into the Cathedral to kill time before the shop opens.

Which is where angels come into the picture.  I wish I had a camera with me or at least my phone.
Paper sculpture angels greet me!  I stroke the soft feathers glued to the card edges of the wings, and notice the wings themselves are comprised of downward facing hands.  Child size hands.  Little child size.  Slightly bigger child size.  And written on the fingers of the hands, words like "hope" "difference" lots of values.  I do have a notebook but I obviously don't have a functioning brain as these are the only words I can remember.  But I remember the stories written on the palms of the hands: "I want to be an astronaut" "I want to work in a cafe and give people drinks" " I want to be a doctor and help people get well" "I want there to be less plastic" "I want children to have a roof over their heads" "I want people to be kind to animals"

Go see the angels.  It's a beautiful cathedral, a lovely antidote to death by adverts and Christmas songs