ADVENT BEGINS

I think, technically, Advent begins on Sunday. It always feels though, like most people get Christmassy on the First of December, and not a minute sooner.

It's the expectation I suppose.

Anyway, in traditional style, I was asked to be part of the band again for Winchester's annual Lantern Parade last night. This is an outdoor gig, playing lively carols on a mobile stage on the cathedral green. It's always a lot of fun: keys, drums, bass, electric and vocals.

Well, it is when there's time to set up. I got stuck in Winchester's one-way system and arrived a bit late. I had to get straight on with it, setting up and hitting the ground running.

About four hundred people milled about in the darkness. Behind them the illuminated cathedral soared into the the night sky, lit in fabulous blue and yellow beneath the clouded moon.

The idea of the thing is that local children make fancy lanterns and then parade around the green with them to the sound of Christmassy music. And so they did - floating papier mache orbs wobbled in the dark like planets: nativity scenes, pikachus, and Christmas trees glowing above invisible children.

Meanwhile, we launched into the sunshine soca sound of the Calypso Carol.

Just at that moment a gust of wind whipped around the stage and threw my music everywhere. The A4 pages flew over my shoulder and scattered into the four corners of the darkness. I was staring at an empty music stand.

I panicked. With one hand bravely carrying on on the keys, I reached out the other to try to steady the stand. Normally I can busk through a tune without too much trouble, but I was supposed to be singing this one, and I knew I'd be a little bit lost without the words or the hasty band directions I'd scribbled in pen across the chord sheets.

But disaster had already made its mind up, and there was no stopping it.

As my arm trailed back from the music stand, I accidentally hit the transpose button and within a matter of moments I was playing the song in Eb while the rest of the band were playing it in D.

Now I love dissonance as much as the next Eric Whitacre fan, even a key-change! But they're best done altogether and with quick resolution. The band glared at me and then stopped playing while we sorted it out and then they chuckled at my misfortune while I stood there bewildered. Quick resolution, eh.

Then, like the stylish Bond character I clearly am, I decided to slip lithely off the stage to collect my music from the grass. I then tried squirming back onto it, leaping up and wriggling onto the platform like some sort of scarfed, overcoated beached whale.

"I'm alright; I styled it out!" I cried, readjusting my woolly hat as I stood up, music in hand. The band looked at me, shaking their heads. Emilia hid her laughter in her scarf.

I don't know whether I'll be asked to go back next year.

-

The engineers have put up their tree. It's the usual collection of old mice, ethernet cables, tinsel and a star made out of disused motherboards.

Meanwhile, in stark contrast, Tracy in reception has already begun recreating winter wonderland around her desk.

So begins Advent - the season of hope and expectation, of anticipation and excitement. Except, as I pointed out, even that hasn't properly started yet.

I guess it's still okay to be hopeful and look forward though, whatever it is we're all looking forward to. Maybe a day when I'm finally cool? Maybe that lovely moment at the other end of Advent when I go to Midnight Mass and all the noise is silenced in a candle-flicker. Or maybe just a little bit of a break from all of this for a while. That'd be nice.