Day 51: We Three Kings

Classic start to Christmas Day - chocolate (the breakfast of kings).  Then a long walk over Hampstead Heath.  Lots of runners, mud-spattered and looking tense at the prospect of all those festive calories getting in the way of health and efficiency.  One is wearing a flashing Santa hat - but breathing hard and gimlet-eyed, it's a slightly sinister look.  The three urban parrots (see Day Forty-Eight) make a shouty and tuneless appearance.  And it's still all business at the ponds.  But they don't quite cut it like they used to - this picture is from the ponds in 1936.  Sheer class.  Mistletoe!  Santa!  Knitted cozzies!  Listen up, 2011.

Back home, a doff of the hat to whole Jesus-business with the watching of BBC1's 'The Nativity'.   Joseph is played by the man from 'Garrow's Law', with an unpleasantly wispy beard and an attitude problem.  Peter Capaldi is a wise man - the myrrh one.  That's a downer of a present, isn't it?  Gold - shiny and lovely!  Frankincense - smells great!  Myrrh?  What...?  Ohhh, embalming fluid...  WHAT?!?  (Myrrh does have the coolest verse in 'We Three Kings', though.  'Myrrh is mine, Its bitter perfume, Breathes a life, Of gathering gloom, Sorrowing, Sighing, Bleeding, Dying, Sealed in a stone cold tomb.'  The only verse I still remember,  How I thrilled to the drama and tragedy of this as a morbid ten-year old.)

Religion done, on to the usual.  Presents.  Food.  So much food.  So.  Much.  Food.  And then, my favourite part of the day so far.  A long walk around the dark, quiet streets of St Albans - breathing in the cold, smoky evening air, and looking into all the sitting rooms lit up by twinkly trees.  It's so still and silent.  The great oak doors of the abbey are closed.  Nobody else is on the street, nothing is open.    (Except for the curry house, where two couples are eating an alternative Christmas dinner.  Under the watchful eye of the staff - all eight of them.  A rather intimidating ratio.)

Time for more religion.  Happy Christmas.