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Joy Deficient

9 Dec

Outrage in my house this morning – in a list of best Christmas movies, The Muppet Christmas Carol came only twenty-third.  I don’t know what muppet compiled the list, but Tory Boy, Spud and I are greviously insulted that the best version EVER of A Christmas Carol came so low on the list.  The Hubrooge thought it came too high, of course; but his opinion has never counted in our house and it’s not going to start now.

I say that TB and Spud were outraged, but I haven’t actually had a chance to tell them yet.  But I will, and they’ll be furious.  We watched it just this weekend, when TB was home.  It’s one of our family traditions in the run up to Christmas.  We confine the Hub to his room while we singalong to One More Sleep ‘Til Christmas, Scrooge and the rest.  How can he not love a song that boasts the line ‘No cheeses for us meeces’?

I was at a carol concert the other night at St Matthew’s in Edgeley.  Stockport Silver Band played.   I don’t know why they are called that because their instruments were all brass.

The band leader’s granddaughter was in the pews: no more than two, I would say, but she boogied like a professional party people person.  Her bouncing backside to Joy To The World was a joy to behold.  She was the only child there, sadly, but she didn’t let that stop her having fun.  When she got bored she took all the pew prayer stools, laid them in a neat row down the main aisle, and modelled on her own miniature catwalk.  The band leader advised us to be grateful: at his last concert he had called her to him and she burst into tears and cried for two solid hours.  She was the cutest little thing.

I don’t think any of the adults were bored: when we weren’t singing along to the band or adoring the band’s mascot, we set up our own Mexican wave.  The vicar had said we would stand for the first and last carols but someone in the front pew misunderstood and rose for the second; the pew behind rose because the first had, then the third followed the second, the fourth followed the third, and so on.  Then we did it in reverse because someone at the back hissed that we were not supposed to be standing for that carol. 

It’s all very English, you know: no-one wants to be the one person not to conform so we all do what the person in front does – imagine the embarrassment if you were the only person sitting, no matter what the vicar said.  You’d have to leave the church so no-one would know you made a very English faux pas.

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