Tis the season of itchy chilblains

 Ask any musician about December and they will tell you that it’s a particularly challenging month. Outdoor gigs and the resulting itchy chilblains have always been a feature. 

I got my first when I was about 9 and had been carolling every night in one week. In the Seventies you couldn’t move for people singing and playing carols. Every High Street would have a brass band or a group of singing scouts rattling a tin. Groups of small Guides and Brownies would take a five mile route march, stopping to sing under a lamppost, while they sent the cutest to knock on doors and beg for money. 

This practice, which used to require the door knocker to give good wishes with an opportunity to check on elderly neighbours in cold winter months has been stopped by paperwork. You now need to apply for a licence from the local council or police (if you are in London). This gives you a window of three days and you still aren’t allowed to shake the tin. Also, we don’t need to now that we can check on people with telecommunications. Why Carol when you can WhatsApp?

Music is still a huge feature of Christmas and some of us work hard to keep the traditions of carols alive. 

Last year was a let down on the live music front and so this year we were all planning to make up for it until Omicron. Boris said, “Don’t cancel your nativity plays. Jenny Harries said, “Don’t leave your house unless it’s essential.” Penfold popped up with a football metaphor and Chris Whitby is hiding in a hole and rocking.

Whatever schools and other concert organisers do now they won’t be able to please everyone. Omicron is an anagram of moronic but, as someone pointed out, omicron b can be rearranged to make no crimbo and none of us want that. 

When I was walking the other morning I saw some children, dressed in sheets and others with tea towels on their heads going into a primary school. One little boy was talking to his mum about it. I tried not to judge while comparing her duvet coat with his sheet.

“I’m really looking forward to it,” he said, “We missed out last year but it is really cold.”

“Yes, think of me, having to stand in the cold and watch you though.”

“I don’t know why we can’t do the nativity in the summer.”

I waited for an explanation about the birth of Jesus, the meaning of Christmas or even a pagan explanation of bringing joy to cold, dark, lonely months.

“No. I don’t know why either. It would make so much more sense to do it in the summer.”

Any school that is brave enough to put on any concert or nativity play this year should be praised. Whatever they do, someone will complain and no one wants to be accused of killing a child’s grandparent.

However, if the price you have to pay is a few itchy chilblains then I think it’s worth it.

I wouldn’t swap days making paper chains, teaching Christmas carols while a donkeys head watches you, even if I do sometimes get a little stressed and grumpy.