The great tradition of Carol singing in the village took on a new turn this year. Outside number 18 a hearty choir of men and woman singing to our very door, it was torch lead and windy. After the hearty carol we joined the party. Next stop Ann Barnes house, sadly she had fallen from her bike, she is 81, and landed in a puddle on the coach road, without a mobile phone she lay there for hours. The front door opened and there she was covered in a shawl sitting smiling like Queen Victoria, we sang a wonderful chorus and left for the main house. Firle Place is now in one piece, the roof has been repaired and inside we were guided to the great hall, on one side of the hall seated were the Gage family and friends, along with happy faces in tweed. We gathered around the grand piano and sang 9 carols. Lord Gage gave us the thumbs up and mince pies and mulled wine appeared from all corners of the room. Tradition now for 150 years. Like the seasons village life is cut from the clock of time, i really feel part of the seasons and the wider family of country life. Flooding and heavy rain would not deter such great days. Christmas Day itself and up to the church for a packed house, more carols and everyone looking happy and very alive. Peter our Vicar gave his normal finely tuned reading, he talked about this time, this time when war destroys souls in Syria, the Ashes and how poorly we played at Cricket. He talked about hundreds of species that are dyeing out each year and how we should take heed. The World cup qualifications and Christmas. Why do we come to church on this day, why do we spend so much money and why do we keep coming back year after year to this very place, without remembering why we need to. Tradition is followed by the shaking of the hands, smiles and a Happy Christmas, a country walk in sodden fields, this is the great tradition, this is all love. Another tradition is that of the 12, another story for another day.