Margaret and I went to Edinburgh last November, and very much enjoyed two days there and the Carol Concert,
the final event of the Competition in which I entered my own words and music. On the third day, Advent Sunday,
we planned to be back home that morning to go to Athelington for their Carol Service in the afternoon. Snow had
closed the airport, and we returned to Stradbroke after a long train journey, on Monday evening. Fortunately, I had
made all the arrangements for the Service, including the choice of a poem called "Winter" that was read in St Peter's
Church and exactly matched our experience in Scotland, and as we travelled home. I had found the book of poems,
called "Road-Royal" by Alice Hunt Bartlett, on a sunny day in Norfolk in August. The title, with its own poem, set the scene
for our slippery progress through the snow to our hotel in the northern capital, and then the journey to Suffolk, with much help
and support on the way. i bought the book of poems because I was attracted by the wintry words; three months later they came
true for us.

WINTER 
The wind is high and bitter cold its sting,
The snow drives straight across the empty street,
A few late-farers with uncertain feet
Make home, their heads down-bent, while everthing
Resigns itself to Winter's icy fling:
On nights like this with one grown dear, how sweet
To find beside the fire your waiting seat
And know the happiness such moments bring!

Safeguarded thus, one's thoughts escape to where
On storm-swept bridges till the morning light,
On speeding trains and planes the signals flare,
Through snow-blind windows draped with purest white,
Until the warm sun shines through crystal air,
The faithful steer us through the long, dark night!