Spontaneity is the key with village carol singing. Too much planning would take away the magic in some way. So, in spite of the odd telephone call which is made to ensure that we will not be a choir of just one or two, we leave the rest to Christmas Eve.
This year was no exception. By six thirty, eleven us had gathered. After a swift tot of Sloe Gin (very low food miles – as least for the Sloes, you will understand), we set off. This year the weather was milder than it has been. The stars were out with a beautiful clarity – just as they should be.
It is important not to peak too early with carol singing. It also seems to be important not to practice. But after a nervy start we hit our stride. We must present a strange sight to the passing traffic on usual march to Oxnead, laden with lanterns, seemingly in the middle of
nowhere. Across the causeway road and back, the spring remains in our stride and we catch up with the year’s events. Everything discussed , from all perspectives.
Little did we know, but reinforcements had arrived in the guise of the Chapman family. Old hands at the carolling game, our volume and delivery audibly increased. Perhaps more relaxed now, the residents of Street Farm were generous in their support and then we struck off towards the rest of the village – along the muddy beet strewn road.
It is the wonder of children that has the greatest effect of carollers. Their palpable excitement and the invasion of their houses and gardens by a singing mob, must leave some sort of memory. We ‘Away in a manger’- ed houses up and down the street. We hit our peak (to our ears anyway), somewhere near John Frye’s house, or perhaps a little bit further on. Wine was mulled and the village club was welcoming – the acoustics within being surprisingly good. We felt something like a Brampton “Flash mob” as we regaled
them with our new found confidence. As ever the Humphrey’s were “treated” to “While
Shepherds watched”, for very obvious reasons, and the Hylton’s received the same
to our second tune (“on Ilkley Moor..bah’t’at). Hospitality was great from all angles, with John Frye’s Italian Wine from jerry cans, and superb mulled wine from both Helen and Geoff and from Linda and Andrew amongst others.
Then to finish things off, a short carol Singer’s Service at the Church. Clustered in the chancel, we sang again and listened to some Christmas poetry readings, to bring the evening to a contemplative end. Now we wait for the count by Katy to see how much money was raised for Quidenham Hospice from the generous villagers. As for next year? Well we don’t plan, spontaneity is the key. The carolling tradition will roll on, depending upon who turns up,