Carols by Glow-Stick Light

I really have been terribly slack with this blog.  Hopefully that will all change in the New Year (like everything – :rolleyes!)

For now, let’s just talk about tonight.

Tonight we went to Carols in the South.  Although we live in the north of our city, we live in the south of our suburb:  a suburb which extends for approximately 10km north to south.  Hence, Carols in the South.

These carols are held in the grounds of the local high school.  They are unpolished and a little cheesey, and they certainly don’t have the crowds that some attract.  Despite all this, there is something truly lovely about them:  they are local.  That makes them ours.  And that makes it really fun.

Possum had been beside himself with excitement during the lead-up.  He found out that there would be a jumping castle there and had been talking about it non-stop.  He had also gone to great lengths to demonstrate jumping and bouncing to Chicken.  (I daren’t mention that Playgroup have hired one this week!)  He was not disappointed.

After an hour on the jumping castle, it was time for the carols, proper, to start.  He really surprised us then by saying he wanted to go and dance with all the other kids up the front.  And off he went, moshing away and talking to all the high school kids with candles.  (Our little Possum is growing up!)

Unfortunately, after too many “bon-bon jokes”, it started to rain, so the whole shebang had to be packed up and moved to the school hall.  During this about two-thirds of the crowd went home and Possum panicked that there would be nowhere to dance.

Once snuggly inside, the kids sipping their babycinos alongside Mummy and Daddy’s coffee, and all of us munching on St Lucia’s Day biscuits, the lights were dimmed, the unplugged carols started and the organisers gave out the last of the glow-sticks to all the little kids (most of whom already had some, so we were well lit).  It was a much smaller affair than we expected, but it was lovely and intimate.  And Possum found space to dance with some of the other kids, while Chicken had fun checking out the other families on picnic rugs on the hall floor.

The evening was rounded off in the usual manner by a local celebrity being called reluctantly to the front to sing a solo of, “Oh, Holy Night”.  He sang in a lovely lilting manner, the crowd in the hall swaying in a soothing motion.  And then,

“Oh, ni-i-ight divi-i-ine!”

“Oh, oooooooooooo!”  sings Horatio, standing at his feet.

“Oh, night, when Christ was born.”

“I’m singing too, listen!  Oh, ooooooooooooo!”

“Oh, ni-i-ight div-i-i-i-i-ine!”

“Oh, oooooooooooo!”

“Oh-ah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” joins a second little boy, now standing at the soloists feet on the other side.

“Oh, night, oh, ni-ight, di-i-v-iii-ine”

“Oooooooooooooooo!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

I swapped phone numbers with the Mum of the other boy.

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