Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Could it be the arrival of one’s tree, closely followed by a ‘domestic’ over how to get the lights working? Is it the sight of a paper-chain or two being blue-tacked to the office ceiling? It might be the smell of uniquely spicy concoctions wafting out of the kitchen...pepperkaker (Norsk, see above), Christmas cake, mulled wine or some non-descript experiment dreamed up by an over-enthusiastic youth.
Perhaps it’s a viewing, tissue in hand, spectacles steaming up with emotion, of the school show...who can resist melting when a five-year-old angel starts to sing? Is it the first time you shout, ‘Oh no it isn’t’ (or the opposite) at some hairy old bloke in a sticky-out dress and high heels? It might be the moment you festivify your toe-nails in a startling shade of scarlet edged with golden glitter. If you’re a bit of an old bore, it might simply be reading the papers, full as they are of the annual round-ups of Best This and That for 2010. Or maybe it’s that annual cry of frustration... ‘which fool has nicked the sellotape, I’m in the middle of something really important here, Pratt-features’.
Perhaps you are a genuinely tasteful person, and wait until an angelic choir boy sings the first strains of ‘Once In Royal David's City’ from King’s College, Cambridge on Christmas Eve itself.
Everyone has their own particular ‘Official Christmas Moment’ when the whole jing-bang kicks off and we are lost in a miasma of over-indulgence before emerging, heavier but skint, just in time for a really serious session at Hogmanay. Some of us are overly-keen and are already there ....one hard-core wassailler I know says Christmas starts when the first snow-flake falls. Ambitious, I would say....apart from being a hopeless romantic, surely THIS year he’s going to be on his knees with exhaustion by the time we reach the 25th.
I expect you have been on the absolute edge of your seat with anticipation, if not foaming at the mouth, desperate to know how our choir concert turned out. Well, as it happens, that concert, which is of course an annual village event, marks the start of Christmas for many a reveller round here. People travel miles, you know, braving all manner of hazards to delight in our dulcets. Knowing this, you can only imagine the immense burden of responsibility placed upon our choral shoulders.
Thus, we approached our Christmas Concert with reverence and glitter, decked out as we were in a classy blend of black and silver. Star-like, we belted through the music full pelt. In rehearsal, we had been reprimanded for too much nodding in parts, (especially the wiggly bits in Handel’s ‘Messiah’) and told off for not swaying enough in the more swingy numbers. There’s ‘nae slackin’ in this choir, you have to pay attention. Glancing through my pencilled-in marks on the music, you would wonder what the heck was going on....it says ‘nae noddies...keep the heed....just shut up noo...start swaying from left....put a sock in it here....eyebrows-eyebrows!!!!!....gentle wooooo’. (Obviously, I have no idea what any of this actually means.)
Well, we made ‘em laugh and we made ‘em cry, which is one of my main aims in life, so the job was done. We also shocked ‘em into singing a few times, which is always good for a laugh. Eventually, after numerous attempts, the rapturous applause was calmed with the promise of a mince-pie and a wee dram, and everyone was miraculously transformed into the very essence of Christmas Present. Fa la la la lah, la la lah lah lah.
Now, if you’re having a little trouble finding your ‘Official Christmas Moment’, I’ll just say one thing....Farmer’s Market, Noon, Saturday, Carols, Be there or don’t be in The Square.
Posted by Returning Scot at 16:17