Chez Moi

As I was trying to juggle two jobs together today morn, i.e reading my new Bill Bryson whilst sipping a piping hot mug of coffee, Pratik gave me an almighty kick (he was trying for a comfortable position on the coach from which he could watch Over The Hedge) and most of said liquid fell onto the book. As I turned to give him the coldest stare of the century, he looked at me which sheepish eyes and slight alarm. Then, quick to establish a purer-than-driven-snow quality, he started: “Well it wasn’t actually my fault, Mummy! If it was my finger that touched the coffee and tipped it out, I would have said, yes it is my fault but it was my toe. My toe, you see, so actually it is not my fault!”

If you figure that out, drop me a line!

When I woke up today morning and peeked out of my window, the world was covered in a milky white haze. I could not even make out the block of buildings that were adjacent to ours. This was a pea-souper alright, with none of the ickiness attached to it.

Winter’s finally arrived in the South of England.

As I started on my trek to work, I couldn’t help noticing the spider’s cobwebs. Instead of the regulation saliva based transparent thread, the spiders had somehow got hold of white woollen thread to knit their webs for the winter season. Closer inspection made it clear that it was merely the frost attaching itself firmly to the spider’s threads!

For a long time, I had been moaning at the lack of winter with the rest of the Brits. ‘Where’s that first breath of frost that arrives to kill the bugs?’, I queried no one in particular. But this week, winter arrived with a vengeance. There’s a sharp nip in the air, you can see the puffs of white forming in the air from your breath and no matter how well wrapped you are, if you stood still for more than a minute, you can feel the cold seeping into your bones.

I love this! I love autumn and I love winter - with its cold, cold mornings and a mere handful of hours of daylight. I love wearing the thick jackets, woolly hats, colourful scarves and gloves. I love drinking hot, hot coffee or chocolate and stomping my feet to keep me warm. Of course, winter means its Christmas time - the town centre bedecked in colourful lights, Christmas trees covered in tinsel, baubles and pretty figurines, big malls decorated to death with Christmas stuff, complete with a ‘grotto’, which has a scrawny ‘Santa’ too knackered to even say ‘ho’ to a toddler, carols emanating from the street corners and the radio and of course, the mad scurry for presents for loved ones.

This year, I’ve been caught up in the festivities a bit more than usual, what with my son, who studies in a Catholic school wanting us to have a Christmas tree and all that goes with it. Thus, I’ve found myself collecting Christmas recipes, buying mince pies and Christmas puddings, mulled wine and gingerbread and that ultimate of Christmas mainstays, Christmas crackers! I am having so much fun that I am rather looking forward to wrapping up the presents we’ve got for little P and hiding them under the tree for him to find on Christmas morning. Of course, we had to surmount the problem of finding a route for Santa to enter our house, as we don’t have a chimney - we solved it by working out he could chuck them in via the letter box!

Lugging the (fake!) tree home, along with a highly excited and a chatterbox of a almost 5 year old in a cold, dark evening is no easy feat but it was well worth it to see his face the next morning when we finished setting it up and switched on the lights. Though I agree with people who say Christmas has become more of a greed fest than one of cheer and goodwill, I still cannot help feeling great joy at the sight of the festivities and a positive glow, as we stand on the brink of a brand new year.

So, whatever lies in store for us around the corner, enjoy the present for now and have a very, merry Christmas!

“Do not cry – wave at him but do not cry!”, advised my colleagues as I left work early to go to my son’s school Nativity Play.

“Cry? Now why would I do that? I will be beaming from ear to ear, clapping away like mad – but cry? Bah!” retorted I and started making my way schoolward.

Two weeks back, my son came home one day from his infant school, told me that he’s to practice his “lines” and I am to help him memorise it. I was puzzled. “Lines? What lines?” I wondered. Gentle probing brought out the whole story – little P has been chosen as one of the narrators for the Reception class’s rendition of the story of the very first Christmas. Needless to say, I was really pleased. Hell, I felt on top of the world!

My little baby, a narrator, in his very first school play! Aww! We practised his lines diligently, that day and the next and the next and soon enough, P was word perfect. He could say without a moment’s hesitation “Inside the stable the wise men gave Jesus their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.” Even when I felt a pleasant glow at hearing him saying it so perfectly, I couldn’t help wondering how he would do when faced with hundreds of eager parents on D-Day.

After couple of weeks of practise, the Reception class’ Nativity performance was scheduled for the Tuesday. Taking the time off from work, hubby and I reached the school early only to find a mile long queue of identically eager parents patiently waiting to be let inside. At the appointed time and not a moment too soon, the doors opened and we filed inside. On surveying the Hall, every parent could be seen trying to look for the vantage point from where they could see the apple of their eye clearly. For the first time in school history, the front row seats were gone within a trice.

S and I took the middle seats of Row 2 and counted the minutes to 2 pm, when the show would start. Soon enough, the Head Teacher took centre stage and announced the children in. My heart swelled with pride to see my little man come marching in quietly, along with the rest of his friends. Dressed in his narrator outfit, he looked just the same as the other children but of course, we spotted him straightaway, long enough before his searching eyes located us in the audience and lighted up.

One by one, the narrators said their lines, whilst the actors went about enacting one of the best-known religious stories. There were loads of sniffles audible throughout, as mums dabbed their eyes when their babies lisped their lines. One little boy stole the show by singing about 10 decibels louder than the rest of the children and never mind the cue!

Finally, it was Pratik’s turn. He stood up, said his bit, waiting every time for the wise men to give the corresponding gift and then carried on with the rest of his line. He did not even falter when the second wise men chucked the jug containing frankincense with a huge clatter and the audience split its sides. He just carried on with “… and myrrh” and sat down.

Three other children went on to say their piece and sing ‘Away in the manger’. I did not hear a word – I was too busy crying with happiness and drying my tears!

Pratik took part in his first Nativity Play at Infant school today. He was one of the narrators and had to say, “Inside the stable, the wisemen gave Jesus gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.” He said it oh so beautifully! Sundeep and I were sitting in the audience, beaming away! Here are some pictures and video links.

I’ve decided to start a blog for my son - http://pratikisms.blogspot.com — visit and enjoy!