Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Monday, 23 December 2013
Don't they know it's Christmas?
My reasoning behind buying a raincoat the other day is quite clear today - 90 MPH gusts with torrential rain are currently threatening to tear the street decorations off the wall outside as I write.
The boy and his girl were supposed to fly back from the South of France today, and last night I warned them to check the net for weather warnings, as Bristol airport is not a good place to land in 90 MPH cross-winds. They landed last night, so they will be turning up for dinner tomorrow after all.
So the 21 year-old tradition of me cooking for all of them on the 24th will go ahead as usual, despite the fact that there is no longer any children to use as an excuse. Give it a few years and there will be again.
I will get into a frantic panic as always, then relax in front of a massive pile of washing-up - we give the maid the two days off and have no dish-washer.
The kids and their mother will trawl through You Tube, over-riding my pre-selected compilation of carols from Kings College and replacing them with favourites from the 80s (in mother's case) and favourites from the 2000s (usually Kanye West and Beyonce) in the kid's case. H.I. will insist on rare imports of heavy Jamaican dub, to be eventually over-ridden by me. It's not that I don't like it, but I have been listening to the same stuff for about 30 years now, and could do with a break.
I have a wonderful little video clip from the year before last, when the kid's mother stood unsteadily up against the iMac, singing along to the first transmission of the Band Aid rendition of 'Do They Know It's Christmas?', completely off her trolley on Champagne and Sauvignon Blanc.
The video that she is watching is remarkable in itself, with about 50 of the biggest egos the world of pop and rock has ever seen, stuffed into one studio all at once, breaking all previous records for the 'who can scream the loudest' competition. How the foul-mouthed Irishman managed to keep all that together so well deserves an OBE in itself, never mind the amount of money raised.
When it came time for the chorus, the kid's mother cranked herself up about 30 decibels, outstretched her arms in time to the music and began to sing, "FREEZE THE WORLD!"
We all looked at her in disbelief, suddenly understanding that she had gone through about 20 years thinking that they were singing this and not 'FREE the world'.
The ramifications of her misunderstanding suddenly dawned on us all, and - for the first time - we realised that she must have had no clue whatsoever about the motives for the massive, global singalong involving just about every superstar around at the time. Like I have said before, she is a true eccentric, and I love her all the more for it.
I heard of another misunderstanding the other day, and this was from a little girl who went through most of her early childhood thinking that the first line of The Lord's Prayer went as follows:
"Our Father who art in Heaven, Hello, what's your name?"