Birthdaychristmas

My birthday was just another birthday until Grumbles the elephant came to say hello. I’d had to work during the day and then gone for some food, then on to a bar. The elephant which everyone else simply calls ‘the elephant’ is usually paraded around near the pier where most of the tourists are, but for some reason on that night he had been led to the centre of town and it gave me a suitably exotic birthday surprise when I turned around and saw him neatly filling up the large entrance way to the bar. I’ve taken to calling him Grumbles, he deserves a name and Grumbles is quite fitting.

Christmas was not just like any other Christmas. It was weird, very weird. We were asked to perform for ten minutes at one of the high schools as part of their morning Christmas party. As I’ve discovered, Thailand doesn’t really care about Christmas but any excuse to put on an elaborate show with dodgy technical problems is too much for them to resist. So we decided we’d just make fools of ourselves and sing some Christmas songs. Obviously we would start with Jingle Bells – they all love Jingle Bells in Thailand, I’ve almost forgotten if there are any other carols. Then some bright spark had the idea of doing the Twelve Days of Christmas and between the four of us we could make twelve posters for some students to hold up as we sing it. So my Christmas Eve this year was me splayed out on my living room floor in a jungle of colouring crayons, frantically trying to remember what hens look like. And eleven pipers piping! ELEVEN!? I was so proud when I managed to draw a piper piping but to do it another ten times! To keep myself amused I added variety – fat pipers, midget pipers, stoned-looking jazz pipers etc. I also did seven swans a-swimming and they looked more like white-feathered eels. Suffice to say I was scribbling away until 2am and made Santa very angry indeed.

When we turned up at the school we went into a massive hall and the party was already in full swing. An audience of about 400 kids was watching the current act – eight skinny, promiscuous 15-year-old girls and gays in skimpy Santa outfits were simulating sex on the stage and occasionally doing a kind of ‘electric shock’ dance along to Jingle Bells (of course). It must happen about once a week, that feeling of ‘what the fuck am I doing here?’

Then we went on and did our stuff. Inevitably our backing music wouldn’t work and there was only one microphone. The school already had a karaoke version of Jingle Bells at the ready, which we sang along to atrociously badly, Shaun taking the lead because tone-deaf or not, he is the head teacher. Then somehow I ended up singing solo a-cappella for the Twelve Days of Christmas while Claire choreographed the holding up of our ridiculous posters, and Brandon and Shaun went around throwing sweets at the kids. I started singing and a massive X-factor style scream went up around the room – I felt like I was flying, I was Susan Boyle and everything was going to be alright for the rest of my life. No more sitting at home alone dwelling over awkward social moments from five years ago, no more nightmares of mutant orphans stealing my thoughts as I sleep, I’d broken America, I was high on the acid of self-love, I’d dreamed a dream and the dream was me on a stage in Thailand singing Christmas songs to a few hundred pubescent students. But you don’t need me to mention that The Twelve Days of Christmas is a long, drawn out affair with far too many repetitions and a patronisingly obvious conclusion. When I finally finished I received a pitter-patter of dissenting applause from the fickle crowd and my Susan Boyle career was over.

Later in the day I was a very sweaty Santa Claus at the kindergarten that some of the girls teach at. Then I had to teach for 2 hours, then mark 39 exam papers. Merry Christmas.