Category: Reasons to be cheerful

Advent activity #21

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

I was struggling a bit this morning, what with the relentlessly doomy tone of the news and the feeling that while it’s OK to feel blue in general, the last week before Christmas has always been my happiest time, even when I was generally doing badly, and feeling blue this particular week was NOT FAIR.

And as I was sitting feeling sorry for myself the doorbell rang and it was a neighbour whom I last saw when he was in the middle of a combined mental health and housing crisis and I almost didn’t recognise him, not just because he’d had a shave and a haircut for the first time since I’ve known him but because I’ve never seen him outside his front door before, his agoraphobia having prevented it for just over six years. I got to know him during lockdown #1 because I started shopping for him, so he had come round not just to drop off a Christmas card and a bunch of flowers, but to ask me whether I needed anything from the shops, which he was so pleased to be able to do that I conjured up a need for lemons just to be able to join in. (I always need lemons, more or less.)

So now I am feeling buoyed and every time I look at the flowers I smile, which is excellent timing because today’s task is to MAKE PRESENTS FOR MUM AND DAD, which I am going to suggest you interpret as an instruction to give something – a cup of tea, a phonecall, the gift of having hung out the laundry before they remember to do it – to someone important, because it might make them smile like D’s visit has me.

And if you need a smile yourself, here’s Doris Day:

Reasons to be cheerful: part 1 in a series

On By Laura MorganIn Reasons to be cheerful, Small pleasures, TV and radio2 Comments

dipObviously, if I’d known at Christmas what I know now, my “things to be happy about” series of advent posts would have included things like “the pubs are open” and “supermarkets sell toilet roll” and they would have been much easier to write. But we’re not called Glad All Over for nothing (yes OK, it’s because of Crystal Palace, but if the official CPFC song was, I don’t know, Bring Your Daughter To The Slaughter then I wouldn’t have named my blog after it) and so in these exceptionally trying times I am going to do my best to start bringing you doses of good news, fun links and just cheering things, however small.

And also, things to do when you can’t leave the house! A couple of weeks before This All Started I found myself randomly watching an old episode of Death In Paradise and then somehow helplessly watching episode after episode, completely entranced. Death In Paradise has been going for almost ten years, a fact I only know because the original writer, Robert Thorogood, was the brother of my then-boss who told me his brother had only set it in the Caribbean so that he could go to the Caribbean. This seems entirely sensible to me and it obviously worked, because the next best thing to going to the Caribbean is looking at the Caribbean from afar, and since looking at things we like from a long way away is the new normal I think you should follow my example and watch it all on iPlayer. (But don’t follow my example of starting with S4, because I don’t know why I did it and now I don’t know what series to watch next. Just watch them from the beginning like a normal person.)

I should warn you that it is racially problematic (the comedy characters are all black; murder victims and murderers all white) and every episode follows exactly the same formula (though this in itself is also sort of comforting, especially when you find yourself saying the lines along with the characters), but it is so sun-filled and light-hearted that I can just about forgive it its many flaws, because watching an episode and seeing all of that outside is very much a tonic for being stuck on the sofa in a cold and grey Greenwich.

(Although the best thing that’s happened so far this week was going to the park yesterday and staying socially distant from my sister, but being allowed to say hello to the dog. Outside is outside, after all, and there is, as you know, literally nothing better than a dog.)

Advent Song for December 17: Wonderful Christmastime

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful1 Comment

First off, I need you to let me know if the sound is OK in the video I’ve chosen, because I’ve left my headphones at home so I can’t listen to it. But even the video of this song makes me happy because it’s a perfect illustration of the enduring guileless charm of Sir Thumbsaloft and co. He literally is this cheerful! Imagine that! No wonder he’s still going strong, the only material difference between 1960s Paul and 2010s Paul the purple hair-dye and the transposition of some of the big hits down a key or two so that he can still hit the high notes. Let’s all age like Paul McCartney.

In further agreeably eccentric English news, you will absolutely want to click through and look at the pictures in this story about three penguins visiting the residents of a Lincoln care home.

Advent song for December 7: Mary’s Boy Child

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

As you will know if you have been following my advent calendar since it started ELEVEN YEARS ago, I like to reserve Saturday for party songs, and there are none more party than Boney M’s 1978 disco classic. Did you further know (I did, but had forgotten until today) that Bobby Farrell didn’t sing any of this, but danced and mimed along to Frank Farian singing? Apparently you could get away with that in 1978, though not for long, as Black Box and Milli Vanilli were subsequently to demonstrate.

I have a third fact for you, which is that Bobby Farrell died on 30 December 2010 in St Petersburg, the same city where Ra-Ra-Rasputin died on the same date a mere ninety-four years earlier? I know, SPOOKY.

Talking of Boy Children, today’s good news story was pointed out to me yesterday evening by my auntie Jane as we waited to cross the road at Cambridge Circus, and we all collectively ahhhh-ed in the street, so I thought I’d share it with you too, in case you missed it.

Advent Song for December 4: Merry Christmas Everyone

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

Shakin’ Stevens’ Merry Christmas Everyone is like the ur-Christmas chart hit. It’s from the eighties, like all the best music; it features bells and electronica; the video is cheesy and set in the snow; someone is dressed as an elf; it features Father Christmas, children, Shakey in a Christmas jumper, a snowball fight, a sleigh ride and, at 3:19, a key change. There’s also a beautiful moment at 3:44 where Shakey sings “children playing, having fun” whilst standing behind two children who are very evidently doing neither.

Merry Christmas Everyone is the song Cliff would have made if he hadn’t insisted on making Christmas all about Jesus. It’s a jaunty slice of electronic rock’n’roll perfection and it should be on every Christmas compilation, including this one.

Meanwhile, I’m delighted to introduce you to Kathleen Saville and Olive Woodward, both 89, who are paving the way for Shona and me, who plan, as they have done, to move into the same care home after being friends for seventy-eight years.

Advent Song for December 2: One More Sleep

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

This modern-day, less unsettling version of the Last Christmas video where lots of young beautiful people go to the countryside together to throw snowballs, is a little bit annoying, but the song is a gorgeous one and I’ve always loved the sound of Leona Lewis’s voice. A good thing about this year’s theme is that it gives me free rein to include a mixture of modern pop, jazz/crooner standards and carols, so that is what I’ve done, although I think this is probably the newest song on the list.

Talking of modern pop, and women with great voices, today’s bit of good news that you might have missed is Sia sneaking into a supermarket in LA last week and paying for strangers’ shopping by pretending to be a lottery winner called “CiCi” who wanted to share her good fortune. This is both inspired and inspiring. If you could just make one person’s day better, even, why wouldn’t you?

Advent song for December 3: Boots

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful, Small pleasures

Did you know that for years and years The Killers released a charity single every Christmas? When I was compiling this list I spent a happy hour comparing them all, and narrowing it down was a tough job, partly because the videos are at least as good as the songs (and sometimes better). What I like best about The Killers is that I never know how much of anything is a joke.

For today’s pick I’ve gone for Boots, from 2010, partly because it has a singalong chorus, excellent drums and East 17-esque bells, and rhymes “television” with “kitchen”, but mostly because I love the video, which is the most Vegas thing you’ll ever see, if you are looking for the Vegas beyond Elvis and wedding chapels. It looks like scenes from a film but it isn’t, and I have no idea what’s actually going on in it, although the fact that it stars Brad Prowly (aka Super Bad Brad), a much-loved New York City street performer, sort of gives us a vague nod at a plot, if you squint. But don’t squint too hard, otherwise you’ll miss Brandon Flowers singing on a roof overlooking the Strip at sunset, and that’s a sight we should all feast our eyes on as often as possible.

The key(s) to happiness

On By Laura MorganIn Navel gazing, Reasons to be cheerful, Small pleasures

Just because you MOSTLY only write about Christmas music doesn’t mean you are ONLY allowed to write about Christmas music. I was going to tweet this, but it’s a complex and many-layered story which won’t work in 140 character-bursts, so here we are.

It did start out on Twitter, though, when last night I tweeted this from a train that had just left Brighton:

Screen Shot 2017-11-04 at 12.03.06

Screen Shot 2017-11-04 at 12.07.15

I mean, everyone knows that tempting fate is a terrible idea, and tempting fate when you’re super-tired and relying on Southern Rail to get you home is an even worse idea. But here’s the thing: all my connections worked! I got to East Croydon in time for the 23.32 to London Bridge and I got to London Bridge in time for the 23.56 to Victoria via Crystal Palace, and I caught a bus from New Cross Gate and I was home not much after midnight. And as the lift stopped on my floor I thought, I am SO HAPPY that I’ll be in bed in five minutes, and then I fumbled my keys and dropped them down the lift shaft.

Have you ever done a proper, filmic gasp? I don’t think I had until that moment. There followed ten minutes of going up and down in the lift, trying to see whether the keys had got caught on something or were hiding on a ledge somewhere. No luck, so I went outside to the concierge and asked if he had a torch I could borrow to shine into the spaces and see whether I could spot them. He didn’t, but he pointed out that I probably had one on my phone. And he was right! I went back and had another look, and managed to see that the space underneath the lift is deeper than I expected, six feet or so, but there, just within the corner of my vision, I could see the glint of what could only be my keys.

So I went back to the concierge and asked whether he had some string and a magnet. Astonishingly he didn’t (you can’t get the staff) but he did have a long pole and some sellotape, so I fashioned a sort of makeshift fishing rod and went back to the lift (my block is across the courtyard from where the concierge lives, so all of this involved a certain amount of back-and-forth in the rain).

Shining my torch into the void whilst being careful not to send my phone the way of the keys, I slid my sticky-ended pole downwards towards the glinting object. The pole caught on something at the bottom – I couldn’t really see at this point – and I ever-so-gently lifted it out, only to discover that the a glittering treasure on the floor of the shaft was actually a piece of plastic wrapper.

I mean, what do you even do in a situation like this? Like, what do you even do? I shone the torch around a bit more but nothing was visible, so I slowly packed up my makeshift fishing rod and headed back out to the concierge, thinking that I’d have to check into the hotel opposite my block and try again in the morning, when I’d be able to retrieve my spare set of keys, which live too far away for a late-night raid and anyway, I didn’t want to call anyone up at that time of night. Fine. Except that I have deliveries coming today, and one of them has a starting window of 7am. Fine, I’ll leave a note asking them to call me when they get there and I can run down and let them i – no, hang on.

Just as I was on the point of giving up I remembered about emergency locksmiths. I Googled. The first result said “£59, we’ll be with you in twenty minutes”. That sounds OK, I thought. I mean, I don’t really have any spare cash this week but I can stick it on the credit card and it’s cheaper than the £89 it’ll cost to stay in the Premier Inn.

I called them up. “£59,” said the man. “He’ll be with you in half an hour.” I waited. After ten minutes I got a phonecall from a different man. “I’ll be with you in half an hour.” I waited a bit more. Eventually a very polite and smiley locksmith showed up, introduced himself and shook my hand. We went inside. “Ah, two locks,” he said. “You know it’s £69 for each one?”

I made a vague, tired attempt at arguing for the extra tenner (the per-lock price, while a nasty surprise, seemed fair enough) and we agreed to disagree for the time being. “I’ll have to drill,” he said. He drilled. It was LOUD. I think my neighbours were all out, because there’s no way the sound wouldn’t have woken them. Either that or they thought there was a monster outside and were wisely ignoring it.

I have no idea how long it all took; I wasn’t paying attention, which is why it came as even more of a surprise when he asked me whether I wanted the cheap lock or the expensive one.

Say what?

“Ah, the price we quote is just for busting your lock open; if you want it replaced that’s more. Do you want it replaced?”

Now, my block is pretty safe, which is one of the reasons I live there. But even so I’m not keen to leave my front door open for anyone who takes the fancy to wander in and out while I’m sleeping. So YES PLEASE I’D LIKE IT REPLACED.

“OK, what kind of locks do you want?”

I don’t know! I’m not supposed to know about locks, you’re supposed to know about locks!

He tapped away into a calculator. “OK, total is £252.”

At this point I was resigned to spending more than I could afford just so I could go to bed, but even then this seemed a bit steep. I protested.

“£200 if you pay cash.”

“I don’t have £200 cash!”

“You can go to a cashpoint.”

No thank you, it’s 2am and raining. And I’m really tired, and as I continued to protest I realised he didn’t want to be here any more than I did, and he probably wouldn’t be seeing much of this money anyway, and I should probably stop being so graceless and just agree to pay. So I did, and we shook hands again, and he went home and I went to bed, and at 9am the next morning the daytime concierge called me and said “I’ve been down into the lift shaft and got your keys, do you want to come and get them?” and I couldn’t decide whether to be sad or glad, but on balance I think the night concierge is probably also not paid enough to be held responsible for solving my late-night problems, and after all I paid with the credit card so it’s not real money, and at least now I don’t have to ring the bank and ask for a replacement dongle-thingy, which was attached to the keys.

And what last night felt like an actually insurmountable problem (“what do you even do?”) went away with the application of (1) a small amount of clear thinking, (2) a credit card and (3) the passage of time, which I think is a lesson to remember, because although of course I am lucky to have had a credit card and been able to pay that much at short notice, it really wasn’t an insurmountable problem and now that it’s gone away my mood is lighter than it would have been if none of it had happened, because happiness is only ever relative.

That said, next time I think I’m an hour and three quarters from my bed I will remember the time I said that and turned out to be four hours and £252 from my bed, and I will keep my thoughts to myself.

Carol for Christmas Day: O Come All Ye Faithful

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

Yes I know you can’t have an advent song on Christmas Day, but you can have a Christmas Day song, which is what this is, and you didn’t really think we were going to have a month of carols from King’s and not include O Come All Ye Faithful, did you?

What’s interesting about O Come All Ye Faithful is that nobody really knows who wrote it, or when. It’s just merged into the general consciousness over the years, which is what all the best carols do. And like all the best carols, this has an indeterminate number of verses depending on who is singing it and when, and very probably the best descant line of all (starting in this video at 02:20 and reaching its giddying climax at just after three minutes).

In Cambridge they all like to go home to their loved ones for Christmas so they have to sing this on Christmas Eve, but the internet has given us the luxury of listening to it whenever we like, and when we like to listen to it is today, because the last verse begins Yea Lord, we greet thee, born this happy morning.

So have a happy morning, and see you back here in the new year.

Advent Carol for December 24: Hark The Herald Angels Sing

On By Laura MorganIn Christmas, Music, Reasons to be cheerful

Well, they always finish with Hark The Herald, so we will too. I mean, you can’t not really, can you? It’s just clearly the biggest and best carol of all. No nuances or subtlety in this one; it starts big and stays big, and then gets bigger, and each time you think the descant has reached the dizziest height it can, it hits a higher one. Are you at work? Wherever you are, turn up the volume and sing along (but don’t break your voice on the descant).

Happy Christmas!