Carolling on trhe Evening Air

Carol singing isn't like it used to be! When I was about ten or eleven, we carol-sang every night for a few evenings before Christmas. Several church members and we kids sang our hearts out collecting for children's charities. When we moved to Hampstead, in North London, we were informed that the church here went out singing, too.

But it was all so different. They never sang in the streets - oh no, nothing so demeaning as that. Instead, they called on the more affluent church members, and the money collected was given for things like choir music and new hymn books. By then, I was a bolshie teenager, and I voiced my disgust on the wrongs of the matter. My words met with scepticism and even non-belief! They'd have been less horrified if I'd announced I was embracing an Arian heresy, but I don't suppose they'd known about that, anyhow!

At the church in Lewes, they knew all about the pros and cons of carol singing. It rained non-stop, or so it seemed, that first Christmas, but we braved it, despite. No lights shone from the well-curtained windows and and noisy TV sets. After about an hour, we had collected something like 80p., and felt like giving up.

Then something happened. We were in a dimly-lit street, and one of the gang kept muttering the lines of one of Charles Dickens' novels, foolishly, I thought: 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times'. when suddenly a door opened. ‘Can you please sing “Silent night, Holy night”? Our daughter is sick. She's supposed to be singing it in her school carol service, but she's too ill to go. And here you've arrived! You'd better come in and sing it to her now.' We squashed into a small room and sang a few carols for them. And the lady produced coffee and cakes for us as well.

The evening was a great success. Maybe that little girl was cheered by our singing. Back at the church, we not only collected 80 p., but a ten pound note had also appeared!