A Christmas dream

TO BE honest, I don’t really consider myself an adherent of the Christian faith. There are as many things about Christianity I loath as I admire.

I suppose I agree with Nietzsche’s comment that Christianity lends itself to corruption as much as to joy and Godliness.

But if I’m not of the faith, I am, of necessity, of the tradition; I was brought up a Christian, indeed a Catholic, and especially at this time of year I’m surrounded by the symbols of that two thousand year old tradition.

Okay, I admit, it’s a stretch from the gifts of the Magi to the crass commercialism that we all endure today and of which we are all, willy-nilly, victims.

I do admire some of the music which the tradition has inspired, both classical and popular.

And in the latter category, I would like to mention one of my favourite secular carols which I was pleased to hear again on Sandie Dunleavy’s radio show in BBC Radio York.

Christmas Dream was written by Andrew Lloyd-Webber and Tim Rice for the otherwise rather forgettable 1974 film, The Odessa File.

Why I like this particular song is because of the lyrics which talk of “the crying, the shouting, the dying” – unusual to say the least of it.

The sentiment that “All nights should be silent, they should all slow down” is one that I heartily subscribe to.

Above all, the chorus:

The whole world needs a Christmas dream

We need it to warm us,

To calm us, to love us…

is surely at the very centre of the Christian tradition.

And in that tradition, in that spirit may I offer to one and to all a warm, calm and loving Christmas.

My Christmas dream indeed.

Cold feet

I’VE BEEN somewhat remiss about my postings of late – no real excuse for it except a kind of lethargy which has been upon me for weeks now.

I seem to spend more time asleep than fully conscious.

We’ve been dogged by a certain amount of ill health, too – again, nothing major, just the usual seasonal coughs and colds and the like.

But it just adds to my winter moroseness.

Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a few weeks in the sun! I tell My Good Lady so this very evening as we recall the glory that is the Caribbean, or the wonder of South East Asia.

Not for us at the moment, alas. Maybe later next year. We shall see.

Anyhow, the Big Day is nigh upon us and we’re about as set for it as we’re likely to be.

Little or no cooking involved for us this year, we’ve been invited by some friends for Christmas lunch – and I have to say even this has been something of a trial.

PD, our host, has certain mental health problems, and in the space of the last few weeks has been getting himself more and more worked up about our now immanent arrival.

At first he was really keen, but now I fear he may be in the edge of some kind of breakdown on our account.

Were it not for the fact that Lin, his wife, is really enthusiastic about our coming to their home, I think I might have tried to extricate us from their invitation.

Far too late now, of course – we’re committed.

But I approach the day with a certain feeling that the old feet are getting well and truly icy!