I am renowned for repeating myself but, to date, have never done it on this blog. At least not intentionally. Gonna do it now I am afraid, so all those with better things to do please move on. John O'Leary and Emma Mills took an old favourite, it still is, and gave it a stimulating theatrical twist. This year's offering retained the essential heart of the special evening I wrote about two years ago (see below) but did so with refreshing and entertaining style. So I was doubly pleased. Shan't review it. Not that sort of evening. But I loved it so much it is worth reminding folks of why St Andrews Christmas is a Coming helps to make this goodwill season what it is. Sent my lovely brother and his wife back to the Midlands with a glow you could see for miles. Roy Hall - 15th December 2013
Here is my piece from 2011. I still feel the same, soppy sod that I am.
The St Andrews Players Christmas warm up in Luton has been
doing its stuff, on and off, for twenty seven years and I reckon I have seen
most of them. It isn’t great theatre, it isn’t meant to be, but that is hardly
surprising. The players generally put it all together in a few days after their
autumn production. But it is great entertainment and, more importantly, it’s
our first real taste of the forthcoming festivities. It gives off a wholesome glow
you could warm your feet on. I value such glows and in the one year I was
deprived of their carols, festive songs, and readings, I stuck in my
interfering oar. I face the household preparations of stuffing turkeys and
hanging baubles much better if I have had my annual fix of ‘Follow the Star’
and ‘Sleigh Ride’. And it ain’t just me. Over the years I have dragged a
variety of people along to it, old friends, new friends, neighbours and
relatives. And they all come away with that warm glow of which I am so fond.
It has gone through a few changes. In the early days we used
to sit around tables and sup wine and dive into nibbles in a church hall.
Nowadays it all takes place in the church and we sit in pews. I worried at
first that it might lose its easy charm and become too similar to the many
church events that take place in December. I love a carol service as much as
the next man but I like the St Andrews Players difference. There is something a
bit special about singing ‘Hark the Herald’ and then sitting back as the
performers stuff Santa and his ilk up a chimney. And what we like most, and
there were a lot of us last Saturday night, is the things that rarely change. Nothing
pleases like an old pair of comfy slippers and the familiar and oft repeated
will generally score over the new. Oh all right, I admit that the wassailing
song does nothing for me but then some folks, weird as they are, don’t like
Sleigh Ride. There is no accounting for taste. But we love the Silent Nights
and the Bleak Midwinters, the Dreaming of a White Christmas and the one that
tells you all to Have Yourself a Very Merry Christmas. Whoever gets the nod to
sing that one, and they are usually good, I get very emotional. And critics
being emotional are about as rare as a nine pound note. And we pew sitters all
love doing our bit for the Twelve Days of Christmas. Personally I prefer being
a lord a leaping to a turtle dove as you don’t have to get up so much. But we
all, young and old, jump up and down with innocent abandon. You don’t generally
get much of that in Luton.
Like all such events it has its serious side. It gives
players who rarely get a chance to lead in major productions the opportunity to
have their own five minutes, and it often showcases a new young talent yet to
tread the boards in earnest. The critic in me, the unemotional one undisturbed
by warm glows, has honed in on more than one teenage stunner over the years. I
suppose I should rephrase that but I think you get my drift. And that drift is
that this annual event, twenty seven years strong, with its silly five minute
pantomimes and a chairman who always misses the entrance of Father Christmas is
an occasion I unashamedly pin my colours to. The Mills Family, and there are a
lot of them, do themselves and us proud. I reckon there were over two hundred
warm glows around Denbigh last weekend, many hugging old friends. Early frosts
and economic glooms got short shrift. Long may Christmas is a Coming survive. There are probably, in small
villages and humble towns, hundreds of such events all over the country. They
are the unrecorded tiny blessings of a celebrity obsessed and media driven
culture. And if they are half as entertaining as our St Andrews offering then
Christmas will be good. Even if you don’t like Sleigh Ride.
Roy Hall - December 2011
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