It's December

Everyone gets excited when it finally gets to December. The countdown to Christmas: opening a door of the advent calendar each day, burning a little bit of the candle, going to the church advent Carol service,  drinking gingerbread latte in a coffee shop with shopping bags at your aching feet while the Salvation Army band serenade you with Christmas carols, work Christmas dos where a pianist rises from the floor,  sitting through a performance of the Messiah on hard church pews, fighting your way around the supermarket for your sprouts (you've got to get them on soon!) with strains of  a primary school choir murdering jingle bells wafting down the aisles. It's all exciting. It's also a little bit exhausting.

This week, people have been asking me things and the only reply I seem able to give is, "It's December!"

December means something completely different to a musician. It's a double edged sword. The only time people really want you. The only time that, "let's stick a cd on" becomes replaced with "let's get a band." It's great to be wanted. It's exciting that people want to listen to live music but it is exhausting to try to fit a year's worth of performances into one month. We crawl into Christmas on our knees and spend most of Christmas Day sitting in the chair making incomprehensible burbling noises. The turkey might be over or under cooked, as by the 25th we have lost all powers of reasoning and simple things like telling the time become a liability.

The composer Eric Whitacre put this meme on Facebook this morning, which sums it all up perfectly.

The worst thing you can say to a musician in December is, "Can you do that? Because I'm too busy."

The Long Suffering Husband has learnt over the years and now makes it into a bit of a joke. "Can you go and order the turkey on Monday? Because it's December and you're not busy at all. Ha ha ha. Oh, by the way, I watched a lovely film while you were standing in the icy wind with a freezing lump of metal in your hands and on your lips, getting chilblains on your feet. How are the chilblains, anyway?" The children at school are beginning to learn. When one of the band said, "can you write me a new part? This one is too easy," and I shrugged, "It's December!" I did notice the person next to her give her a little nudge. 

Sometimes, though, they don't get it  and the results can be a terrifying. This week a boy, who was old enough to know better asked, "Could you...the school...put my name on my recorder for me?

"Why can't you do it?" I asked, not unreasonably.

"Because we're too busy"

The room went silent as I took a deep breath and answered very calmly and quietly, "You're too busy?"

"Yes"

"It's December!"

Now, the whole class were watching, listening, attentive. If only I could have been diverted from the words fighting their way to get out I could have taught them something really important like string theory and they'd have got it.

Sadly, I couldn't but I stayed calm and quiet, leaving a sinister air in the room.

"What are you doing after school tonight?"

"Err...I'm not sure."

"Oh, I'm going to do a stall at the school bazaar and then go and conduct an orchestra. I'll get home at about half 8 and have something to eat before I sort some music for the next concert."

"I...err"

"And what are you doing on Sunday?"

"I...err"

"I'm doing a concert in a church. It starts at 5, so I will get there at 3 to move all the furniture around, put the stands up, make sure everyone has the right music and then when the concert is over I'll put it all away again'

"oh...err"

"And what about Monday after school?"

"I.....err"

"I'll be teaching some people and then playing my flute at a concert.

"Oh"

"Tuesday?"

"*squeak"

"A choir concert, that I'm singing in. After teaching a million pupils that is and accompanying three people in their exams"

*silence. Wide eyes.

"What about Wednesday?"

"Errmmmmmm"

"Another concert. Do you think you might be able to find time to write your name on your recorder or shall I do it for you!"

The poor kid shuffled back to his chair and I heard someone whisper, "it's December."

I'm not complaining really. It is wonderful to be able to do what I love but if I greet a request of yours without my usual sunny, "Of course I can," response then I can only apologise a say, "it's December!"

Although, I might have to cancel Christmas this year because I've just been to the allotment to find this.

And you can't have Christmas without home-grown sprouts.