The school looked particularly warm and cheerful that cold December afternoon. There was just the one large airy classroom. It was impressively decorated – pale blue walls, navy-blue and cream ceiling beams and supports, and blue floral curtains. Against the dominant blues, greens and reds, gold and silver made the room look very bright and festive. Using tissue paper of varying colours, the children had transformed the windows into the most wonderful stained glass, depicting scenes in the early life of the Holy Family.
On a table in one corner there was a small crib with delicate porcelain figures. In the Reading Corner stood a modest Christmas tree.
For the Nativity play, the desks had been removed and replaced with rows of chairs. By the time I arrived the place was packed with mums and dads, grandparents and governors, all facing a makeshift stage.
Miss Pilkington, a tall, elegant woman, opened proceedings by welcoming everyone. Then the Chairman of Governors, a jolly little man with ruffled hair and crinkled cheeks, read the story of the Annunciation from the Bible in a deep sonorous voice.
As the children sang ‘Away in a Manger’, Mary, all in blue, entered, accompanied by a small boy in the regulation brown dressing gown. Mary and Joseph knocked on the inn door, found there was no room and were shown to the stable.
Things went like clockwork until the Three Kings arrived on the scene. The first little boy, carrying a golden box and dressed in a red velvet cloak made from curtains, still with the hooks in, and sporting a cardboard crown that covered half his face, announced loudly:
‘I am Melchior and gold I bring,
In homage of our newborn king.
I have travelled from afar,
Following yon twinkling star.’
The second King strode on to the stage carrying a blue box. He too boomed out his words:
‘I am Caspar. Frankincense I bring,
In homage of our newborn king
I have travelled through the night,
Following yon star which shines so bright.’
The third King entered carrying a green box. He shuffled nervously to the centre of the stage and stared around him wide-eyed and frightened as if lost in a busy shopping street. The hall was totally silent. The child sniffed, then his small shoulders heaved and great tears rolled down his small red cheeks. Suddenly he let out a most desperate and plaintive cry: ‘I don’t know who I am.’
‘You’re Balthazar, Dickie,’ Miss Pilkington said in a loud stage whisper, from the side of the room, ‘and you’ve brought Baby Jesus a special present of myrrh.’
‘I don’t know who I am,’ the child whimpered again. ‘Please, will someone tell me who I am?’
‘Balthazar,’ the audience chorused.
‘I don’t want to do it!’ he wailed. ‘I don’t want to do it!’
The Headteacher moved forward, helped the little boy place the box before Mary and Joseph, gave him a cuddle and, taking his hand, led him off the stage. There was a moment of hush, and then the audience burst out clapping.
16
Christmas Presents for Miss
Chocolates in a fancy box –
For the teacher who is tops!
A tea towel and an oven glove –
From Gemma Thompson with my love.
A bottle stands in thick brown paper,
All the best – from Darren Baker.
Perfumed soap from Lee and Chris,
You’re our favourite teacher, Miss.
Flowers in a coloured pot –
Happy Christmas, Helen Bott.
A china dog with painted face –
For the teacher who is ace!
And from the nuisance of the class
The Nativity encased in glass.
I know this year I’ve been a pain,
I’m sorry, Miss – with love from Wayne.
And though she’s taught for many years,
The teacher’s eyes still fill with tears,
For children know the ones who care
And that is why those gifts are there.
17
The Arrival of the Three Kings
It is often the Three Kings who steal the show, and the highlight of one Nativity was with their entrance. Someone had really gone to town on the costumes for the little boys who came in clutching their gifts tightly; they were resplendent in gold and silver outfits, topped by large bejewelled crowns that shone brilliantly under the stage lights.
‘I am the King of the North,’ said one little boy, kneeling before the manger and laying down a brightly wrapped box. ‘I bring you gold.’
‘I am the King of the South,’ said the second, kneeling before the manger and laying down a large coloured jar. ‘I bring you myrrh.’
‘I am the King of the East,’ said the third and smallest child, kneeling before the manger and laying down a silver bowl. ‘And Frank sent this.’
In another school, the play opened in the traditional fashion with Mary and Joseph setting off for Bethlehem. Joseph, a confident little boy in large glasses, spoke his lines clearly and loudly. Holding Mary’s hand he gently led her across the small stage. Things didn’t go
so well when the Innkeeper appeared. He was a sturdily built child with spiky ginger hair and his two front teeth missing. It was clear he had a number of family members present that afternoon, for there were adoring ‘Oohs’ and ‘Aahs’ whenever he opened his mouth.
Before Joseph could even enquire whether there might be room for them at the inn, the little bruiser, arms folded tightly over his chest and chin jutting out like a miniature Mussolini, announced: ‘There’s no room!’
‘But we have travelled far and –’ began Joseph.
‘There’s no room,’ repeated the Innkeeper even louder.
‘But –’ started Joseph.
‘Did you not hear me?’ the cross Innkeeper bellowed. ‘I said there was no room. You can go round the back, in the barn.’
‘A barn?’ repeated Mary. ‘We can’t go in a barn.’
‘There’s nowhere else,’ said the Innkeeper.
‘Take it or leave it.’
At this point the little boy caught sight of an elderly woman in the middle of the front row. It was obviously his granny. He gave a huge gap-toothed grin and tinkled the air with his fingers. The old lady, rather unhelpfully, smiled and waved back. This continued for what appeared an age.
‘Shane!’ came the teacher’s disembodied voice from offstage. ‘Shane! Come off!’
18
The Journey to Bethlehem
All was now ready at St Helen’s and here the Christmas play was staged rather differently. Mrs Smith, the Headteacher, explained that she had asked the children to write the different parts of the Christmas story in their own words and four of the best readers would read the narrative while the other children mimed the actions.
Mary sat centre stage, staring innocently into space. The first little reader began the story: ‘Long, long ago there was a girl called Mary and she lived in a little white house with a flat roof.’
Then the angel appeared, a large boy wearing what looked like part of a sheet with a hole cut in it for his head. He stretched out his arms dramatically as the reader continued: ‘One day, God sent an angel and he told Mary she was going to have a very special baby boy and His name would be Jesus.’ The angel looked heavenwards. ‘When the angel went back up to God, he said, “Mary did what I commanded, God. She is calling Him Jesus, just as you told me to tell her.’”
A beaming little boy with red cheeks strode into the scene and positioned himself behind Mary, who was still gazing serenely into the middle distance. He put a parcel on the floor, then placed his hand on Mary’s shoulder and stroked her fair hair.
A second reader took over: ‘In a town called Naz’reth, there was an old man called Joseph and he was a carpenter.’ The angel appeared again and stretched out his arms. ‘God sent an angel to him as well and told him to marry Mary. So Joseph asked Mary to marry him and she said, “Yes please,” and soon expect
ed the baby. Joseph came home from work and he brought Mary some baby clothes and a big box of chocolates.’ Joseph bent down, picked up the parcel and dumped it in Mary’s lap.
Three children shuffled on, followed by a fourth smaller child pulling a toy sheep. The reader continued: ‘In the fields there were these shepherds looking after their sheep.’ The angel appeared again and stretched out his arms. ‘The angel went to see them as well. When they saw this great shining light, they were really, really scared. “Ooohoo – er, ooooh – er,” they went. “What’s that?”
“‘Don’t be frightened,” said the angel. “I bring you tidings of great joy. Today, a little baby boy will be born and you have to go and see Him.” “Righto,” said the shepherds.’
Three more children then appeared, staring upwards and pointing, at which stage a rather large girl pushed the second reader out of the way, and started to read: ‘The Three Kings were very rich and they wore beautiful clothes and had these crowns and things. They looked at the stars every night. One night one of the Kings said, “Hey up, what’s that up there, then?” “What?” said the other Kings. “That up there in the sky? I’ve not seen a star like that one.” The star sparkled and glittered in the blue sky. “You know what?” said another King. “It means there’s a new baby king been born. Shall we go and see Him?” “All right.’”
The narrator continued: ‘They shouted to their wives: “Wives! Wives! Go and get some presents for the baby king. We’re off to Beth’lem to see Him.” “Righto,” said the wives.’
The Three Kings wandered around for a moment before miming knocking at a door. An aggressive-looking boy, with short spiky hair and a front tooth missing, emerged, holding a plastic sword. He stuck out his little chin and glowered.
‘The Three Kings came to this big palace,’ continued the reader. ‘It was covered in expensive jewels and had a golden roof and a silver door. They could hear this blasting music. They knocked on the door and a man called Herod answered the door. “What do you want?” he shouted at them. “We are looking for the new baby king.” “Well, He’s not here!” said Herod. “And shift those camels. They cant stay there.” He waved his sword about and said, “Clear off!” Herod was not a very nice man at all.’
At this point, a small boy wearing trousers too big for him replaced the reader. Mary and Joseph reappeared, pulling behind them a cardboard donkey on small wheels; it had a straw tail and very large polystyrene ears.
‘Mary and Joseph went to Beth’lem on a donkey,’ piped the small reader, ‘but there was no room in the inn so they had to stay in a barn round the back. Mary had her little baby and she wrapped Him up nice and warm and kissed Him and called Him Jesus, just as God had told her to.’
Children began to enter slowly and gather around the baby. ‘And from the hills came the shepherds and from Herod’s palace came the Three Kings following a big star, and they all loved Baby Jesus. He was small and cuddly and He laughed. “Why is He laughing?” asked the shepherds. “Because God’s tickling Him,” said Mary.’
Last of all came the little shepherd boy and he laid the toy sheep before the manger. ‘And they sang a lullaby for the Baby Jesus, and everyone was happy,’ read the small boy.
The whole area was now filled with children singing Away in a Manger’ in clear, high voices.
When the carol finished, I sat for a moment and looked around me: the children’s faces were glowing with pleasure, Mrs Smith was wiping away a tear, the lights of the fir tree
winked and twinkled, and the walls were ablaze with the colours of Christmas. Through the classroom window a pale sun cast a translucent light and the whole world gleamed.
This was indeed something spiritual.
19
Christmas Eve
Christmas lights twinkled in the shopping arcade
That Christmas Eve.
Giant plastic Santas smiled
And mud-brown reindeers pranced across the walls.
Tinny voices of taped carol singers filled the air.
People rushed and pushed,
Hurried and scurried
To buy the last of the Christmas presents.
And on a bench,
Before the crib,
Sat an old woman
In shabby coat and shapeless woollen hat,
Clutching an empty threadbare bag
Smiling at the little plaster figure of the
Son of God.
20
A Yorkshire Nativity
With each season this vast, beautiful Yorkshire landscape changes dramatically but it is in winter that the most spectacular transformation takes place. It is then that the multicoloured canvas of pale green fields and dark fells, twisting roads and endless silvered walls, clustered farmsteads and stone cottages, squat churches and ancient inns is enveloped in one endless white covering, and a strange, colourless world stroked by silence emerges.
It was on a bright, cold morning, a week before the schools broke up for the Christmas holidays, that I went to Staplemoor Primary School and met William again. The last time I had visited the school it had been on a mild autumn afternoon. Gone now were the brilliant autumnal colours, the golden lustre of the trees, the thick carpet of yellow and orange leaves and the rusty bracken slopes. Now it was a patchwork of white, criss-crossed with the stone walls. The scene was magical.
I had met William, a round-faced boy of about ten or eleven, with apple-red cheeks, a thatch of black hair and a ready smile, on the previous occasion and remembered him as a very likeable and forthcoming young lad.
He now presented himself to me with a broad grin. ‘Mester Phinn, in’t it?’ he said.
‘That’s right,’ I replied.
‘Schoil hinspector.’
‘You remember me?’
‘Oh, aye. Once met, never forgotten. I’ve a good memory for faces. How’s tha doin’?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, and what about you?’
‘Champion,’ he replied.
‘And looking forward to Christmas?’
‘Aye, cooarse I am. Best time o’ year is Christmas.’
‘And what do you like best about Christmas?’ I asked.
The boy sucked in his lips and folded his arms. ‘There’s summat special abaat it, in’t there?’ he said. ‘People smile more, they look ‘appier. All t’shops are colourful and bright. I can’t think what I likes the best. I love it in t’kitchen watchin’ mi mam start baking ‘er puddings and cakes an mince pies an’ I can sit
in front o’ fire scraping t’bowl out afterwards. I like it when me an’ mi dad go up to Durdeyfield Farm to get a gret big fir tree an we purr it up an’ me an’ mi sister decorate it. Then t’turkey and t’goose arrive ready for pluckin’. That’s my job, that. And if it snows, we all gu sledgin’ down Ribbon Bank. Then on Boxin’ Day, we watch ‘unters and ‘ounds ‘ammering along ‘igh street goin’ to t’meet. Aye, it’s a grand time o’ year is Christmas.’
‘I remember thinking the last time we met, William, what a bright and confident lad you were,’ I told him.
‘Aye, well, I think I told thee then, Mester Phinn, that mi granddad says not to be backwards in comin’ for’ards. “Allus speak tha mind. Say what tha’s got to say an’ then shurrup.” That’s what he says.’
‘Wise words,’ I said.
‘Come Christmas mornin,’ we’ll all be ‘earin’ ‘im preachin’ at t’chapel in t’Village. I think I towld thee ‘e’s a Methodist lay preacher last time tha were ‘ere. I reckon ‘e’s every bit as good as what John Wesley was. I love to ‘ear mi granddad tellin’ t’Christmas story. ‘E allus tells it in ‘is own way, Yorkshire fashion.’
‘I’ve never heard the Christmas story told in the Yorkshire fashion,’ I said. ‘Perhaps you would like to tell me.’
‘Ay, all reight,’ he replied. ‘I’ve ‘eard it offen enough but it’s worth repeatin’.’Then, coughing dramatically, the boy began.
‘It were reight cowld that neet when Mary an’ Jo
seph arrived at t’inn. “No room!” said t’Innkeeper. “Thas’ll aff to gu raand back in t’barn ‘cos we’re full to bustin,’ what wi’ all fowk comin’ to pay their taxes. It’s not too bad
in t’barn, it’s warm and dry an’ out of t’cowld an’ I’ll fetch thee a couple o’ blankets round when tha’s settled in.” So Mary and Joseph went round t’back an’ into t’barn an’ med best on it. Meanwhile, in t’fields nearby were these shepherds watching ovver t’sheep. All on a sudden, a reight bright light shines down on ‘em. “Hey up,” says one of t’shepherds, “what’s to do?” Theer stood this hangel, wi’ wings o’ fire an’ an ‘alo round ‘is ‘ead. Way, they were freetened to deeath were shepherds an’ med ready to mek a dash for it. “Hold up,” says t’hangel, “there’s nowt to be frit abaat. I’m not gunna ‘urt thee. I’ve summat to tell thee. I’ve cum down to earth to bring thee reight good tidings,” an’ then ‘e tells ‘em abaat babby what’s been born that neet in Bethli’em. “Let’s gu and see ‘im,” says one o’ t’shepherds. An’ so away they went, leaving t’sheep to fend for theselves. While all this were goin’ on, there were these three Wise Men following yonder big star what sparkled in t’dark sky. After a bit of travellin’, they came to a champion palace an’ inside were a very nasty piece of work called ‘Erod. “We’re lookin’ for a babby king,” t’Wise Men told ‘im. “Hast seen ‘im?” “Nay,” says ‘Erod, “‘e’s not ‘ere, but appen if tha finds this babby king, come back an’ tell me, will tha?” He ‘ad it in ‘is ‘ead to kill that babby. “There’s only gunna be one king round ‘ere,” he towld ‘imself, “an’ that’s gunna be me. Mek no mistake abaat that.” Soon enough, shepherds an’ Wise Men arrived at Bethli’em an’ they found Babby Jesus layin’ in a manger. “By the heck, ‘e’s an ‘andsome little feller,” said t’shepherds. “‘E is that,” said t’Wise Men, “an’ I’ll tell thee what, things are gunna change around here from now on. This little un layin’ in t’manger’s gunna light up people’s lives like that yonder bright star in t’sky.” And wi’ that, they all knelt dahn before that little babby an’ worshipped ‘im, for ‘e were t’Son of God, t’light o’ world.’
A Wayne in a Manger Page 4
