A few years ago, around this time of year, I overheard a nice exchange in a charity shop (I was doing my Christmas shopping, I suppose) outside of London, in a middle-England market town. A woman came in, a bit flustered, had a quick rummage through some hangers, and then asked the lady at the till: ‘Have you got anything for a camel? My son’s a camel this year.’
Her meaning was clear, both to the shop assistant and to me: her son was in a nativity play and she needed to cobble together a costume. It gave me a little warm sense of shared meaning, and tradition: something very similar might have happened in these parts 100 years ago – or maybe even 800 years ago. How lovely, to see an ancient festive tradition going strong.
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