Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Music: "White Wine in the Sun" by Tim Minchin





I really like Christmas. It's sentimental, I know, but I just really like it. I am hardly religious. I'd rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest. And yes, I have all of the usual objections to consumerism, to the commercialization of an ancient religion, to the westernization of a dead Palestinian press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer. But I still really like it.

I'm looking forward to Christmas, though I'm not expecting a visit from Jesus. I'll be seeing my dad, my brother and sisters, my gran and my mum; they'll be drinking white wine in the sun. I'll be seeing my dad, my brother and sisters, my gran and my mum; they'll be drinking white wine in the sun.

I don't go in for ancient wisdom. I don't believe just 'cos ideas are tenacious it means that they’re worthy. I get freaked out by churches, some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords but the lyrics are dodgy. And yes I have all of the usual objections to the miseducation of children who, in tax-exempt institutions, are taught to externalize blame, and to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right or wrong. But I quite like the songs.

I'm not expecting big presents. The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate is just fine by me. Cos I'll be seeing my dad, my brother and sisters, my gran and my mum; they'll be drinking white wine in the sun. I'll be seeing my dad, my brother and sisters, my gran and my mum; they'll be drinking white wine in the sun.

And you, my baby girl, my jetlagged infant daughter. You'll be handed round the room, like a puppy at a primary school. And you won't understand, but you will learn someday. That wherever you are and whatever you face, these are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world. My sweet blue-eyed girl.

And if, my baby girl, when you're twenty-one or thirty-one and Christmas comes around, and you find yourself nine thousand miles from home, you'll know what ever comes…your brother and sisters and me and your Mum, will be waiting for you in the sun. Whenever you come, your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles, your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum, we'll be waiting for you in the sun, drinking white wine in the sun. Darling, when Christmas comes, we'll be waiting for you in the sun, drinking white wine in the sun. Waiting for you in the sun. Waiting for you...waiting...

I really like Christmas. It's sentimental, I know...

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