Show time
I’ve just hot-footed it back from the Infants Christmas show - Whoops-a-daisy Angel. My friend had sat behind a small lady in the third row, and luckily kept me a seat as I was pretty much the last in having had a last minute dash home. Then just as it started, the small lady got up and swapped seats with a HUGE bloke, who was not only, as I said, HUGE, but also sporting a jacket with kind of - well what it reminded me of is this gecko thing in The Future is Wild which runs along in the desert catching flies in a very well developed ruff. After a bit of a whispered discussion, we decided one of us should ask him to take it off - me. I think I did manage this without being rude, though not without my friend starting to giggle. Which only got worse when it turned out what he had underneath his jacket was a very large floppy hoody - you can’t, can you. I mean he’d probably got a ruff on under that.
My girl was Narrator No. 3. She said she had been an angel but something had happened and she was not one any more. I suspected this myself about 3 years ago. The show went well as far as I could tell. The costumes were good, the dancing snowflakes were lovely, the singing hearty. I’m not sure if the microphone had been brought in for a particularly quiet Narrator No 1 or if it might have been expected to work for the rest of them, but they all piped up well without it (Narrator Number 3, of course, was especially excellent I thought). Certainly it was less embarrassing than the show my younger boy was in, when he kept asking me if his shepherd’s cloak was brown or purple. I didn’t want to answer in case I chose the wrong colour and he threw a wobbler. Eventually though it became apparent a ruling was needed. “Purple” I hissed in a loud stage whisper. Which satisfied him, luckily.
From a school point of view, it must have been better than a Christmas show my eldest was in when we lived down south, where one bright spark suddenly realised he had been given an unmissable opportunity to swear in school in public. Whenever a slightly dodgy word came up - Jesus, Christ, sod, Lord; come, even - he yelled it out at the top of his voice. His teacher attempted to shush him, but by this point it was too late; the rest of the children had cottoned on, perked up, and were now actually positively enjoying the show. They muttered their way through most of the words, but every time a possible swear word came up - and believe me there are a lot in some carols - they gave it full voice. It was quite funny actually.
The eyebrows of my friend did rise once, though, at the casting of the Whoops a Daisy Angel - daughter of one of the class teachers. But I’m on the side of the Angel, because at work, a window seat has recently become vacant. Usually these are allocated according to how long you’ve been there. So you sit in the dark for so long, and eventually, you get to see out. According to this it should be me next, but as I only work 3/5 days there is some question about whether I get it, or my full-time colleague. I can see that he is there more to appreciate it. On the other hand, if I concede the point I won’t just spend 3/5 of my working life in the dark but the whole lot. Likewise it’s not very fair if the teacher’s kids never get the chance to shine. And shine she certainly did, she was lovely.
I do like these Christmas shows, more I think the older I get. Is it heresy to wonder if the kids really enjoy them? There is a lot of sitting about for them, and not much performing. One poor sausage near us definitely didn’t like it, and cried on and off throughout. Mine have usually had low level moans about doing them. I wonder if it might be better to do them a class at a time rather than all 100 P1’s at once? But then you don’t get all the parents together - hmm. Inconclusive post!