THE BELL, THE BOTTLE, AND THE MELODICA

As if to prove my point about the different ways to celebrate Christmas, I ended up in the Bell and Bottle tonight, singing rousing carols with the Kennet Morris Men.

The Other Matt (from the barn dance band) had invited me, and I (like a great clot) had forgotten it was on. So I drove over and nudged into the crowded pub, not knowing at all what to expect.

They were already in full swing with ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ to the tune of the grenadier guards. I squeezed in at the back and grabbed myself a carol sheet.

The Morris Men are second-to-none when it comes to combining the traditional with the rowdy. It’s almost as though that tankard-swilling, pirate-like disrespect for convention has in itself become a tradition, and the juxtaposition of non-conforming while conforming is the only way to preserve the culture. They, the wives, and the community they generate, gathered around melodeons, squeeze boxes, a penny whistle, and a twelve-string, happily singing about ‘seraphs speaking forthwith’ to ‘On Ilkley Moor Baht’at’.

Matt beckoned me over.

“I brought something, knowing you were coming,” he said, eyes twinkling. “I’ll just go and get it from the car.”

I had a chat with Matt’s girlfriend for a bit, not knowing her very well. She is lovely, by the way. Then Matt returned and presented me with a bright red melodica.

Imagine a sort of child-sized keyboard, with a tube and a mouthpiece. That’s the melodica, air-lifted straight from Top of the Pops 1987.

“Have a go with that,” he said. And so I did. I quickly found myself playing Christmas carols on the melodica. And a sillier instrument I have yet to play.

“Next up, number 41! Here we come a wassailing!” cried the squire. The guitarist strummed, the melodeons and accordions piped into action, and the hearty singing began - with me blowing into a Fisher Price toy.

I have to say though: it actually was a lot of fun. I mean it couldn’t have been more different to last night’s soaring eloquence in the concert hall. It was a packed pub of Merry Morris Men singing to their hearts content. But it was equally as festive. And I left with a very similar kind of glow.

Admittedly I also had very little breath by that point.

I do know that Christmas has emerged as a hodge-podge of borrowed traditions and ideas. Saturnalia, Yule, The Nativity, Sinterklaas, the elves, magic, family, nostalgia, food, festivity, and gentle reflection, all combine, and that is part of the reason for these very different ways to celebrate it. What I like though is that even tonight (and actually last night too), the story of Jesus was still front and centre, even if not everyone entirely believed what they were singing.

“What’s next, Squire?”

“Good Christian Men Rejoice.”

“Right. And what shall the rest of us do?”

I was glad I went.