Christmas comes to the Common

As Commando and I headed across the Common to parkrun, on 11 December 2021, we thought the pandemic was all but over. Well, I did anyway. Of course, we were still all wearing masks in shops and things, and washing our hands every five minutes. Ok, so that might just have been me too, but you get the picture. There was an annoying little variant called Omicron, in the news, but it sounded fairly innocuous, nothing but a bad cold really. The first case had hit our shores at the end of November, but no one was especially worried about it. Well, I wasn’t. It sounded to me as if the virus was doing what viruses generally do, getting weaker. In fact I thought it might be good news.

December parkruns are always more fun than usual, and that morning, there was music to enjoy. There was also ice. All the puddles along the extraordinarily long finish funnel were iced over and the chill in the air was the kind that takes your breath away. In terms of virus spread, this was probably a good thing. It was most certainly hat and glove weather, although, looking around, there were plenty of bare legs in evidence. There was also a collection underway for the food bank. Parkrunners are a generous bunch.

The cold made standing around a tad on the uncomfortable side, so I didn’t hang around to watch the start. It was the sort of morning that requires movement to get the blood pumping, so I headed off across the grass at a brisk pace. For once, there was no mud to slow me down, but I did have to keep my eyes peeled for the huge icy puddles. As I came close to the cemetery gates, a melee of gulls and crows caught my eye. For a moment, I wondered what was going on. Then I spotted a man dishing out bread. It struck me that this was a bird version of the food bank I’d seen earlier.

The festive cheer that makes December parkruns more fun than usual also extends to the Old Cemetery. Every year, the cemetery fairies come along and decorate the place. I’m not convinced that the residents care much for Christmas decorations, but it certainly provides a cheery show for visitors like me.

So, I marched along, enjoying the quirky Christmas cheer and wondering where the cemetery fairies keep all the baubles for the rest of the year. The leaden sky and the frosty cold pushed me ever onwards and kept my hands in my pockets for the most part. It was a brand new tree stump that finally made me stop. I’m always sad to see a fallen tree. It was hard to recall exactly what had been there, but the stump made me think it was a yew. The cut surfaces were like a work of art.

Peering between the trees and along the various trails in search of more decorations, I noticed piles of debris and big garden waste bags hidden here and there. Someone had been clearing the overgrown ivy and brambles, and trimming branches. Maybe the fairies who put up the decorations, were also having a bit of a pre Christmas tidy up. Was the fallen yew tree was part of it?

They’d certainly been very busy in the quest to spruce the place up ready for Christmas. There seemed to be baubles everywhere I looked. They made a pleasant distraction from all my worries about the imminent publication of my first book, Plagued. Thankfully, the technical stuff was all in the hands of Hayley at Hangar47, but it still felt as if I’d handed my first born child to a complete stranger, and I couldn’t quite believe it was ever going to happen.

By the time I’d completed my circuit of the cemetery, my fingers and toes were numb with the cold. Near the gate, a group of sinister looking crows seemed to be watching me. Maybe, they were just relaxing after their earlier feast on bread, but discretion felt like the better part of valour, so I scurried off in case they were looking for fresh meat.

It was quite a relief when parkrun was finally over, especially as the Bellemoor was open and we could all warm our cold hands around mugs of cocoa. The one final festive surprise of the morning came when we discovered Santa hiding out in the pub.

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