PEACE ON EARTH
It wouldn't be Christmas without a visit to Hazlington and Lord Charlbury and his family.
William Shakespeare wrote 'The Taming of the Shrew' and Sally Wainwright bought it up to date.
Rufus Sewell and Shirley Henderson brought the Tamer and the Shrew to life.
As always, my thanks for the joy and delight all four continue to bring me.
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The title, as I am sure you know, is from the Christmas carol, 'Hark! The Herald Angels Sing'
And that is my carol to go with this little story.
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Hark! The Herald Angels Sing
Glory to the new born King.
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinner reconciled.
Joyful all ye nations cry,
Join the triumph of the sky.
With the angelic host proclaim
Christ born in Bethlehem.
Hark! The Herald Angels sing
Glory to the new born king.
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PEACE ON EARTH
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He was watching his daughter struggle to get to her feet, fat little bottom in the air, pushing up on one arm, only to overbalance and fall on her shoulder, then her face.
No, she was not going to give up.
Now, on both hands.
Up!
She had her eyes on what she wanted and staggered across the room towards the sparkling fairyland glitter that was our tree.
"Oh, no! No, you don't."
He was out of his chair and after her, swooping her up in his arms, "No, No, no! Not for you."
"Look! "He pointed."Look, there! An angel has landed on the top of the tree."
But she had more interest in the bright lights that were flashing on and off.
She reached out again but he gathered in her chubby little hand and rubbed his nose against her little button one.
She giggled in delight.
I slouched back in my armchair and watched my love and our daughter enchant each other once more. Her little face is very like mine except for her father's beautiful green eyes.
Why couldn't she have had her father's good looks?
Why couldn't she have had his curls too?
Like her brothers.
A wriggle at my feet and a bony little elbow boring a hole in my shin told me that Michael had lost interest in the train set that his brothers were engrossed in.
He rolled around the floor to protests from Rupert and Peter.
"Mummy! Mummy, tell him to stop it."
"Mummy. He's breaking up the track."
He squirmed up onto my lap.
How is it that well covered little boys have the sharpest elbows and knees?
It has been a long day for little ones and it was getting late, but then Father Christmas doesn't come every day.
Last night had been late for us, filling stockings, and finishing wrapping presents. I wonder why we bothered; the paper was torn off without a single glance.
This was the first year we are on our own. Harry's dad is getting frailer these days; he had come to us with Mummy and Harry in other years but this year he didn't feel up to it, even though it was only a matter of ten or so miles. So they were staying with him, Mummy cooking lunch for them; or should I say it was arriving in a Fortnum and Mason hamper .
Bianca and Lucentio had flown out to Italy to spend Christmas with his father.
My beloved was cooking Christmas Lunch, so we prepared everything before we went to bed.
We prepared! He generously had said. Hmmm. Not quite!
As a sous chef, I am not very good but I am very good at fetching and carrying, loading the dishwasher, and making cups of tea.
We were wakened by little bodies jumping on us. They had lowered the side of Lexi's cot and Rupert had struggled to carry her into us. Four stockings were thrown on to us and we opened everything together.
Piers left the goose to cook, ('We always have goose. Turkey is for parvenus' I was told with a wink our first Christmas together) and we went to the Morning Service.
I am notoriously a tough cookie but my love and our boys singing carols in Hazlington Church on Christmas morning , gets me weepy every time.
The big presents were opened after lunch and then there were tears, tantrums, little boy fights that come with overexcitement and over tiredness...
Now we had retreated to the drawing room where, Piers had laid out their brand new Hornby train set.
I wondered when we bought it whether it was for them or him.
He had told me once he had never had one.
Not for lack of money at that time but because the Christmas he was to have had it, was the one his parents broke up and his present was overlooked.
His present overlooked . . .
It always seemed to me that it was he who was completely overlooked.
He was very off hand about it but my heart ached for that little boy.
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Michael wriggled his way between me and the chair arm. I put my arm around him.
Peter was lying on the floor, his head on his arm.
Michael squirmed some more, his elbow in my ribs now.
"Daddy, Daddy, play the plano."
A last little clinging to babyhood.
Michael is perfectly capable of saying it properly but will hang on to plano when he is tired as he is now.
"Well, I don't know ….What does Mummy think?"
"For a little while, and then I think it will be bedtime for Lexi. And maybe three others too."
"Catch." He threw Lexi to me across the eighteen inches between us to her squeals of delight.
"Daddy, you squashed me." Michael protested.
"No, I didn't. It was Lexi."
He crossed to the old baby grand that had been his great grandmother's, which had stood in the great bay window since she came as a bride at the beginning of the last century. Like other furniture in the house, we had tried shifting it around only to find its original place was the best.
"What shall we have first?" He plays very well, a very mean boogie when he is in the mood.
A ripple of notes.
"Right … How about 'Jingle Bells'."
"Ye-es."
Their young voices enthusiastically joined my love's clear tenor. Singing is not my forte but I joined in with them, Lexi bouncing up and down on my arm.
'Rudolph' followed on.
Rupert got up and joined his father on the piano stool, his eyes going from his father's face to the piano keys; watching, taking everything in. All three boys love music but Rupert has a special feel.
Hmmm. Perhaps it is time to think about piano lessons. I will talk to Piers after Christmas; maybe he will start him off himself.
'We Wish You a Merry Christmas ' segued into 'Away In a Manger' but the singing was becoming a bit ragged and Lexi had her head on my shoulder, thumb in mouth.
Peter sat on my feet, his head on his arms resting on my knees.
Softer now, Piers moved onto a sweeter, gentler version of 'Do They Know It's Christmas'.
Rupert slumped against him. This song wasn't part of their repertoire. Piers looked up and met my eyes across the room, and gently slid into 'Loving You Is Easy 'Cos You're Beautiful'.
"I think it's time for bed"
The triplets made no protest and Lexi was way past it.
"A lick and a promise tonight, I think." I said.
I tucked Lexi away and joined my love to help with the boys.
A quick wipe of their faces and hands with a face flannel and they were in their pyjamas, in bed and asleep before they knew it.
I followed my love out, closing the door with a soft click.
He closed in on me till I had backed against the oak panelling, leaning on his arms to cage me in.
"Well now," he kissed me along my jaw to my ear."Time now for a cup of tea, would you think?
Or- - -"
"Or what?"
"Or . . . I could rip your knickers off and have sex with you."
"And if I prefer a cup of tea?"
"Well, of course you may have one. . . After I've ripped your knickers off and had sex with you."
"I am fed up to the back teeth of having my knickers ripped, and having to buy new ones."
" You could always go 'commando'. No? Oh! Oh, I see! ... Is that a no?"
"Did I say that?"I smiled naughtily at him. I ducked under his arm and fled down the landing to our bedroom.
Later, we sat in our dressing gowns at the kitchen table, hugging our mugs of tea. I reached out and twisted my fingers in his curls.
"It's been a lovely day."
"Mmm"
"Lovely to be just us."
He held my fingers and kissed them .
"Mmm."
"Merry Christmas, my love, my dove, my sweet."
"Merry Christmas to you too, Lord Charlbury."
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