I went to my god daughter’s Nativity play today. I guess this is a rather regular part of all parents’ lives at this time of year, but it was a proper novelty for me. The play was, of course, terrible, largely because Deia didn’t have anything to do in her role as the sheep, but also because these things are meant to be terrible... and as a result, I loved every minute, and laughed hysterically! All the clichés were present. Despite being told not to film the proceedings, the entire audience stood with mobile phones in their hands, trying to capture a few gems which could be used to blackmail their children when they become stroppy teenagers. A little boy, who didn’t seem to be in a costume, was wondering around the stage looking extremely confused. One of the angels had a temper tantrum which involved an astonishing amount of foot-stomping and huffing. The guitarist didn’t know the carols and couldn’t play more than four chords, and the nursery teachers didn’t seem to have any concept of melody. One of the wise men (or actually a wise woman) was cut half way through her speech, and rather unceremoniously frog-marched out of the hall by her teacher. It’s a cut-throat world, this nativity business...
The emails and messages continue to pour in about the 100 Faces film. They played the piece on BBC radio stations across the region this morning, and apparently the phone lines were flooded with people saying they’d had to pull over in their cars because they were crying too much to keep driving. Another message left on my YouTube channel said; “I lost my father this year and I found this very comforting, I am passing it on instead of Christmas cards.” It’s so wonderful to know that something I’ve made has already been taken into the hearts of so many.
I’m currently watching the “Text Santa” charity show on ITV. Amongst other things, they’re raising money to create day centres for lonely old people, which is, in my view, one of the most important charities we can raise money for. One of my biggest fears in life is ending up lonely. The woman they were featuring on the telly had lost her husband after 53 years of marriage, and then her daughter to cancer. Apparently she felt so lonely on some occasions that she resorted to listening to the voice on the answaphone telling her that she had no new messages. I wept bitterly.
Right, that's me. I'm off to buy a mince pie!