The things we do for love...

Saturday morning was dedicated to making invitations for the December Afternoon Tea Service - where does the time go?  In the afternoon the KHT and I went to town. The annual switch on of the Christmas lights was scheduled to take place, so I thought that we would do some shopping and then pop outside just in time to see the Church Green glow in the dark and then go home...

Just one problem. A whole programme of entertainment was laid on and the KHT loves an event just as much as I don't!
We wandered outside about 3:30pm, just to see what was happening and found a crowd was assembling. That was it, we took up our positions and the die was set for the next few hours.
Proceedings got underway with the Redditch Community Gospel Choir - featuring a couple of relatives.
"UNCLE PHIL!!!" the HKT hollered, as he passed 10 feet from her.
In a crowd, ten feet is the equivalent of a hundred yards.
You may see them, but they probably won't see you, and they definitely won't hear you!

Next on the bill was a local singer I had never heard of, follow by a theatrical group of youngsters who also sang.
Then we had a panto...
"Oh no, you didn't!"
"Oh yes, we did!"
... which included all the classic elements - a baddy, several goodies, ghost, bench, door, song and dance, romance and a wedding as the grand finale.

With any pantomime, a certain amount of audience participation is required.
At one point one of the actors asked if we were looking forward to seeing Father Christmas,
and made the joke that the parents weren't joining in with quite as much enthusiasm as the children.
At this point, the KHT turned around and gave me the killer look of condemnation. After all, if the actor had said that parents were not joining in enthusiastically then as I was her parent, I MUST be guilty...
Accused, judged and condemned in just a couple of seconds.
Cheers! Peace on earth, goodwill to all parents...

Finally, red-suited FC arrived,
along with the pink-suited Mayor,
both greeted by the Christmas suited compere in green... Fortunately, no-one was there in their birthday suit...

By now events were running approximately 45 minutes behind schedule
and the KHT and I had been stood outside in the cold
for THREE hours!

Once the lights had been turned on, we joined the steady stream of homeward-bound revellers, as by now my legs were aching.
The KHT would have stayed there to the bitter end.
My weary legs had other ideas...

On Sunday afternoon, DH was booked to play carols at Coughton Court, where they were holding a gift fayre. I thought it would be a good idea to go along and show our support, perhaps instigate some rapturous applause at the end of each item... Unfortunately, all the tickets to the house had been prebooked, so we were banished to the grounds and could hear only occasional bars of music, drifting through the windows on the chilly November breeze.
All the best-laid plans.

After inspecting the gift fayre, and shop we moved
on to the parish church, which had some poppies on display.
Local parishioners had shared stories of relatives who had been involved in the war.
I thought of my Great Uncle Cecil, my grandmother's younger brother, who survived the war but returned minus some fingers.
I thought he was about five years younger than my gran, so must have been born around the turn of the twentieth century. This would have meant he could only have been about eighteen or nineteen when he went off to fight a war instigated and directed by generals and politicians
hiding far from the firing line.

A photograph, taken when Cecil was young, stood on the mantlepiece in my grandmother's lounge. Cecil died before I was born, so all I knew about him were snippets of information gleaned from family conversations.
My grandmother  and Aunt would nod sagely when his name was mentioned
"Ah, Cecil. He wasn't the marrying kind."
They knew exactly what they meant. No other words were required.
However, through the lens of the 21st century, I do not have a clue if that meant he wasn't attracted to women, was very shy, was a natural loner, never recovered from the horrors of war, or any combination thereof.

Leaving the peace of the church and war memories behind, we wandered down to the ford, as most of the grounds were closed, and spent a pleasant ten minutes or so watching the cars negotiate the ford.

By now we were feeling rather chilly, so we joined everyone else in the only warm place available to the proletariat - the cafe. Just one problem. I had to queue for half an hour just to get served! On the positive side, the coffee cake was very nice! Just as I finally sat down to enjoy my coffee and cake, DH arrived, having completed his gig with the wind band. He managed to get served in less than 10 minutes, as by then most of the waiting hoards had been served with their cake.

We may not have seen him play, or the house decorated for Christmas, but we did get cake.

The things we do for love.