…As it was the infants’ party in the afternoon,
we had the afternoon off.
But in the time we were at school, we did some most strange things.
We had to make our own percussion instruments,
either using our mouth or using something in the classroom.
Then we had to sing Walking In The Air.
Instead of going home at 12.15pm I went to Eddie’s house.
We played on the computer and watched a James Bond video of
A View to a Kill…
I still have a soft spot for Walking in the Air. It’s perhaps the most melancholy song ever to become associated with Christmas. A musicologist would tell you it contains more minor than major chords.
One of the great injustices of the latter half of the 20th century (OK, perhaps not one of *the* great) was the way Peter Auty*, who sang the original and superior version, got utterly frozen out (ahem) of public consciousness by you know who, whose version is sappier and full of awful look-at-me melodramatic flourishes.
Although, like the rest of the country, I did buy a copy:
Talking of melodramatic flourishes, I’d been hassling my friend Eddie for ages to hire a Bond film from his local video rental shop. Such a transaction, indeed the very notion of a video recorder, was still alien in my house. As such today’s escapades were hugely exciting, even if the only 007 available in the shop turned out to be this one.
*Auty’s pipes also decorate another of the decade’s finest musical motifs.