Carol Singing

We've been carol singing twice this year: once at a candlelight service at Trumpington church, and then a few days later, the Newnham carol singing in the streets round our neighbourhood.

The snow around the church was still quite fresh and undistrubed. It was dark but the moonlight reflected off the snow gave plenty of light to see by as we walked up the icy path to the church door. I wondered why there was already singing in the church even though we were 20 minutes early - was the choir practicing?

Unfortunately we'd got the time wrong by an hour and the service was in full swing. Three car-fulls of us came, about 10 minutes apart, so we kept disturbing the service as each time the lady ushers had to find carol sheets and candles for the next lot of us to arrive. I got the giggles every time the door opened again for another load of Squires to trail in... But we were made welcome, and we sang heartily. I got there in time for 'In the bleak midwinter' which is one of my favourites, and the reading about the shepherds coming to the stable - so there was plenty more to go. At the end we had mince pies and mulled wine and were very glad we'd come.  There were a few people there that I knew - I'm always surprised at that even though I've been here nearly 8 years so it's not really extraordinary.

The Newnham carols were fun too - numbers swelled by various visiting in-laws (or in my case, Emma). We met at the Co-op at 5pm and sang around our three violins. No money collection - just pure pleasure. It was very cold and dark with snow and ice still making the road treacherous. Lois had put up the sheet music at our 'stations': starting at the Co-op, then the butcher's, down to the bend on Grantchester Meadows and then the tree at the end of Marlowe Road. Two or three carols at each stop - just enough for the fiddlers' finger not to get too cold. We got carried away at the end and sang 'We wish you a Merry Christmas' a few extra time just for fun.  Idefix the dog was there too and paid me the compliment of not attacking my ankles. The brazier, mince pies, flapjacks, and mulled wine were waiting for us at the other end of Marlowe Road - but even that wasn't enough to keep Emma warm in her London coat and thin shoes so we had to make an early escape back to the fire side at 11A.

There was one more carol singing - a short story I read by Laurie Lee about his childhood. He tells  the story of the boys in his village traipsing through miles of snow to the houses of the neighbouring gentry: it's true and unsentimental.