When we went through the pockets of Mark’s overcoat it was full of the ghosts of Christmas past.
There were Orders Of Service from long ago carol concerts and recent carol concerts, tickets from nights at the theatre, and receipts from long since enjoyed dinners.
It was a small happiness to remember how many wonderful times we have had, and tonight we had another.
We ate an enormous breakfast, and then milled across the Christmas markets looking at things. We were on our way across the town to see Kendals, which has become House Of Fraser.
In my childhood it had been a beautiful place, dignified and Chanel-scented. It was where one went to buy and wear furs, with a wonderful food hall and doormen in top hats.
It has become impoverished in its old age, and the food hall is long gone. Today the doormen were gone as well. apart from one Eastern European in a cheap suit with a hand-held radio.
It turned out that Chanel was no more, nor Jaeger, which were my favourite things in the shop. The perfume stands had been moved around, and there was too much space. We wandered around and looked and felt sad.
It was bright and lovely once. It is fading, slowly becoming a ghost of its own former self.
We sighed and made our way back to the Midland, which is still elegant and beautiful. We had sparkling wine in tall glasses and Lucy introduced us to a nervous young man who had come from Blackpool on the train, and who is going to be a bouncer when he grows up.
We left them to explore by themselves and went upstairs to get changed. When it is the pantomime we all meet in the afternoon and eat early.
It feels strange, and rather splendid, to dress in silks and heels and pearls in the middle of the afternoon.
We congregated noisily in the hotel lounge, before setting off in a long, straggling line to amble over to the restaurant. This did not matter, because it is opposite the Chinese arch, and we all know where we are going. In any case I was wearing a large white hat, so anybody who started to feel lost could follow that.
It is so lovely to be amongst so many friends.
Even the restaurant man has become a friend. He had wrapped up a bottle of champagne for us to take home as a Christmas present, which touched me so much it made my eyes leak a bit, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.
The food was ace.
We sit on two tables, one for grown-ups and one for children. At one time we used to pay half price for the children, because they were little. Now not only are they not half price, they have bottles of wine on their table as well.
Then the pantomime.
I love this.
It was brilliant.
It was just before the interval when Cinderella changed magically into her beautiful dress. One minute she was twirling around the stage in rags, the next she was gleaming in a long white dress ready for the ball.
As for the coach and horses, flying out above the audience, it was magnificent.
I know how they do these things really but it was so utterly, completely convincing that I believed in it entirely, and gasped and cheered with the excitement of it.
We booed the Ugly Sisters and shouted for Buttons when somebody was going to steal his parcel, including when a stage hand approached it during the interval. We laughed until we cried at the song with the policeman’s truncheon and and buckets of water, and cheered and danced and clapped until my hands felt raw.
We staggered into the night feeling absolutely dazzled.
They had saved us a table in the Midland lounge, which was kind of them, because after last year I would have been putting up signs which said they were full. It did not matter, because this year we were quieter, and laughed and talked and just enjoyed being in each other’s company.
It is the nicest thing, to be with friends, the nicest of all things ever. I have had the happiest of evenings, and feel full and content, and joyful and exhausted.
It has been the best of times.
