Those magi...

Christmas Eve. Magi travelling. Those magi fascinate me, they do, they really do…priests, warriors, interpreters of dreams, seekers, bearers of prophetic gifts.

I can't travel. I have no camel or horse. And, anyhow, this kind of journeying is not done in the physical realm. So this is a contemplative, inward day for me. Yeah, yeah, I know – you’re all racing round like headless chickens doing a ton of cooking and preparation. Ah, the bliss of a simple Christmas, huh?

James and I might bake a few mince pies later. I have also promised a cheesecake (a proper baked one) as nobody here likes Christmas pudding and, seeing as it’s only the three of us this year, well, we suit ourselves. But it’s hardly arduous. So that leaves…time. A fire, of course. Rosemary in from the garden – for remembrance of the dear ones who won’t be with us (Mum enjoyed last night btw, when friends dropped by unexpectedly and said hello to her). Tiny lights sparkling. Frankincense winding tendrils through the house.

Shall I go to midnight mass? Probably not. More likely I’ll just muse and meditate and think about journeys…about magi…

One of my earliest Christmas memories is of my father singing We Three Kings in his deep brown bass voice. This is a Celtic instrumental version which I rather love…



Now then, The Three Kings (from Persian Lands Afar)… We sang this carol at school and it always chokes me. I can’t find a version that really encapsulates the spine-tingling quality of this. But this isn’t bad…

And my other magic Magi song…



Yeah, you know my Christmas message alright. Don't you?  Love.  And magi... (of course). 

Hunting for my Christmas mojo

I’m going to have to haul myself back to reality for a bit. Have to step out of denial and accept finally that Christmas IS coming and that the Bonkers House has no goose to be getting fat, no tree, no decorations, not much food and a serious dust issue. I sent out a small flurry of cards last week in a bit of a daze and now can’t remember whom I sent them to and whom I didn’t....

But hey, this letting Fate take its chance, this letting go and letting what will be, be, brings some practical as well as metaphysical benefits. If I can’t seem to get the wherewithal to go out and get Christmas, it seems Christmas is coming to get me whether I like it or not. First the most beautiful little box filled with home-baked biscuits from dear Uta in Germany. Those frankly didn’t stand a hope in hell of lasting until Christmas – you couldn’t see the crumbs for dust. But, replacing them, came a festive tin from ‘biscuiteer’ Judy...

‘I suppose we should get some spirits in,’ said Adrian looking pointedly at the empty sloe gin bottle, still sitting on my desk.

No need. A positively huge box arrived containing home-made sloe gin, limoncello and cranberry and orange vodka, all stunningly packaged. Not just that but a jar of plums in spiced brandy and a pot of cranberry, port and orange relish. Tiny Tim WILL have Christmas! I think what touched me most was that these came from Zoe, who’s only just come out of hospital (all thankfully well). ‘You’ve been having a tough time,’ she said, simply. ‘I thought they might cheer you up.’ Heck, what do I do to deserve friends like this? 

So the bah humbug mood was subsiding a bit when Tee asked if people would do a quick clip for her vlog. God no, was my first reaction. But then I thought, hey...why not? Drop the ego. Shut up the stupid voice in the head that goes, ‘you look shit, you sound shit’. I’d been sent a webcam a few weeks ago, with the idea that I might do some video reviews for a website. Well, I’d had a bash but let’s be very honest here – there is a clear reason I never fulfilled my childhood dream of becoming Valerie Singleton (the being a Blue Peter presenter bit, btw, not the gay icon bit – though, actually..... ;)) I duly sent off my reviews but never heard a word back. Obviously turned the marketing company quite, quite speechless (and not in a good way).

Anyhow, back to Tee. I had the equipment, so to speak, so why not? She wanted to know what everyone’s very favourite part of Christmas was. Good question. In fact, impossible question. I’m hugely ambivalent about Christmas. I used to adore it – used to do the whole country house bit with home-made garlands of greenery looping round the stairs; bowls of frosted fruit. Everything became a ritual – from chopping down the tree to laying out the mince pie (home-made of course) and sherry for Santa. Now it’s a bit of a chore.

So where is the magic? Is there any left? Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realised yes. For me, it’s the night before Christmas. It’s going to midnight mass (even though I’m not really a church-goer) and singing the old old carols; in candlelight. It’s coming out into (hopefully) a clear crisp night, swapping candles for stars. It’s stopping still and breathing deep. Thinking that, whatever you believe, the story of a baby born in a stable, surrounded by animals, worshipped by the most lowly and the most high, adored by angels – is actually pretty magical.

I didn’t say that, of course. I stuttered and spluttered something about singing The Pogues, Fairytale of New York instead. And I do love that song.

But there’s one I love even more.... (cheesy, but true).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShN8UIk5-mw


Because, really, that's what the magic of Christmas really is...  Not presents, not heaving tables, not parties or tinsel.  Just love. 

Talking of love.....I've neglected my relentless pushing of the Please Click the Next link of late.....but if you look up to the top right-hand corner of the blog, there is not a star but a little white icon.  Be a love and click eh?  Sometimes you have to give Fate a helping hand...  ;)