He woke to the sound of carol singing outside his window. His eyes were sticky, his throat dry, his head fuzzy. But even so, a little voice niggled that carol singing wasn’t what he would expect. Not in June.
Away in a Manger ended, and there was the briefest of pauses before Good King Wenceslas struck up. An elderly choir by the sound of it, the male voices deep, slow. Harmonious nevertheless.
The fuzziness in his head softened a little, and he pulled himself upright, rubbing his eyes to clear the stickiness … He blinked. He wasn’t in his own bed. This bed was so much grander, and so much older. A massive wooden four poster, with red velvet curtains tied back with thick white and green ropes. He stared about the room. Equally grand, and old. A huge armoire in dark wood, a massive chest of drawers, a gold-framed mirror on the opposite wall.
Last night – what had be been up to? Had he been out with friends? The furriness on his tongue suggested perhaps yes, but he couldn’t recall … anything. Had he gone home with someone, to use a euphemism? At his age, unlikely. He allowed himself a quick grin, but knew, somehow, there was a grain of truth in the supposition. Not gone home in that way, but the sense of a loud, charming presence, with a booming laugh and twinkling, although tired, black eyes played at the back of his mind.
The carol singers were on to The Holly and the Ivy, a rousing rendition. He slid from the bed and reached – without thinking – for the red dressing gown with its white fur trim hanging on the back of the door. Shrugging it on, and slipping his feet into the tall black slippers at the foot of the bed, he ventured to the window to peer out from behind a green, holly-and-berry decorated brocade drape to see who was serenading him.
In June.
His heart pattered.
In June – there was all this snow?
Where was he? And as for the singers, what a strange ragtag bunch they were. Small, long-bearded, and wearing gowns and tall pointy hats, they resembled a bunch of … elves.
He startled, rubbed his fingers nervously along the edge of the dressing gown. What on earth? He tugged at the window sash, which reluctantly let its grip on the sill loosen. A crisp, clean chillness wrapped itself about his upper body. He had never known anything like it … but yes, he did remember. Perhaps. The fuzziness in his mind had transformed to shapes, and colours, and senses … and blurred memories which, he felt uneasily sure, time would bring into focus.
‘Hey, you lot,’ he called down. ‘Who are you, where are we?’
The carol singing stopped as abruptly as a light switched off. A man, elf? at the front, gazed up from under his hat.
‘You’re awake at last,’ he said, and although he didn’t raise his voice, the words floated clearly up to the bedroom window. Like magic.
‘Welcome, new Santa,’ a slightly younger, enthusiastic voice called from the back. The other elves nodded solemnly.
‘Better get your skates on, Santa,’ the first one said mildly. ‘We’re all needed at the workshop, no time for this carol singing malarkey.’ The elf raised his arms, palms upwards. ‘Awful lot to do before December.’
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He woke to the sound carol singing in the street.
What? Christmas already. Where had the year gone?
Noel shuffled to the window and looked outside. Sure enough. There they were – a bunch of men and women singing their favourite carols in full volume. Contented smiles on their faces.
People in the neighbourhood had begun to gather to listen and were either singing along or clapping enthusiastically at the end of each song.
Noel wasn’t into Christmas. Neve had been. Waste of time, he had said to all his friends. Don’t know what you see in it.
His friends ignored his complaints and continued to send him Christmas cards and presents despite all his protests.
“It’s a wonderful time of year,” they had said. “A time of peace and goodwill to all.”
“What peace and goodwill,” he frumped. “Look at all the wars in the world – Middle East, Ukraine, just to name two serious trouble spots, not to mention all the conflicts in Africa and several South American countries.”
“Well, we can’t do much about that,” they had replied. “But at least we can make everyone feel much better at this time of year. Just have a little faith.”
Faith, he thought, what on earth was that? However, as he continued to observe the shining, beatific faces on the street below, Noel began to think there might be something to “making everyone feel special at this time of year” after all.
The more the carol singing group sang, the happier and lighter his spirits began to feel.
Quickly dressing, Noel rushed outside to join his neighbours.
“Hi Noel,” they said. “What are you doing out here. Thought you didn’t like Christmas.”
“I don’t,” he responded. “But there is something about these carol singers and their songs that I can’t resist.”
“About time,” they all laughed, as they began singing the next carol.
The modern-day Scrooge couldn’t help but be impressed at the words of the song.
“Noel, Noel, the angels did say”, they all chortled gleefully.
Ha ha! A convert.
Yes, can’t have too many of those LOL
Reminds me of the movie starring Tim whathisname (who also starred in Tim the Toolman) about the dad who became Santa when the real Santa fell off his roof while delivering presents and died. Love your version LOL.
Yes, I thought of that too, after I’d written it. It was a fun movie.