Xmas 1973

When asked what my abiding memories of Christmas are I am reminded
of an incident that occurred when I was thirteen.

The school I attended was the original "old school" and had traditions
which were religiously upheld. One off these involved the Christmas
carol service in the school chapel.
The best soprano in the school choir was selected and coached for some
weeks to perform, alone and unaccompanied, the first verse of "Once in
Royal David's city", standing alone, front and centre of the choir
gallery with a sea of smiling, piss-taking faces beaming up at
him.

The great day came and your truly was standing in that gallery. 600
shiny pink faces were raised in my direction. The loony music master
fixed me with that mad stare for which he was best known and played a
solitary fluting note on the organ.

I started to sing a totally different one, a lump gathering in my
throat preventing the correct egress of the necessary noise. A
strangled groan was the end result of my efforts. Marshalling my
remaining faculties, I struggled through the remaining twenty years of
the first verse and collapsed thankfully when the assorted baying and
wailing of the rest of the school took over for the second and
remaining verses.
It is well known that this kind of thing occurs in the formative years
of every young man.
The time when a man stars to think not only with his brain but also
with parts some feet to the south.
This condition continues to his dying day but, fortunately, the voice
breaking but does not last very long. I can honestly say that mine
occurred in the most embarrassing way of any one I know.
After the service I was summoned to the headmaster's office where his
displeasure was expressed to me. I was asked, in the time honoured way,
whether I had anything to say for my self concerning my part in "That
Debacle".
Falteringly I replied, my voice oscillating through the octaves like a
radiation alarm. When he had listened to my earnest if unreliable
account of the morning's events the head master dismissed me from his
office, more in pity than in anger and I have never been able to sing
properly since.