With the weather heating up Cyril Rum, Angel on sabbatical from Heaven, wasn’t sure he’d made the right decision in coming to earth to see how humans did what they did. Today was going to be a hot one, he sensed it and began to think how the other half of eternity must be feeling when it was like this all the time, or at least, so he was told.
He flicked on the radio he had recently acquired from his good neighbour Mildred Thrup. The radio had an interesting mix of news and music, and it was a way of learning the ins and outs of life on earth.
“God Rest Ye Weary Gentlemen” was playing, and his immediate thought was he knew the gentlemen in question.
There had been so much fuss about the Son being born to an earthly woman and like when anything different happened word got out, and people came from all directions to check out that the Son of God had been born in a manger in Bethlehem. Cyril had been one of the angels responsible for leading the gentlemen to the baby’s side and let’s face it he thought if it wasn’t for him they’d still be walking in circles as they had little to no sense of direction. It was little wonder they were weary but hadn’t they come a long way he thought. Here he was centuries later, and they were still talking about them.
Just then Mildred knocked on the door and in her hand, she carried a parcel wrapped in tin foil.
“Good morning Mildred,” said Cyril, “what’s that you have there?”
“Good morning Cyril, glad you are up I have a small Christmas pudding for you,” she announced looking decidedly pleased with herself.
“I don’t know what a Christmas pudding is,” said Cyril looking his inquisitive self.
“A tradition we have at Christmas Cyril. A treat, a dessert packed with fruit and goodness for you to enjoy on Christmas day,” explained Mildred.
“I’m beginning to see that it’s that time of year. Christmas is everywhere I see, people decorating their houses, the shops all shiny and glittery and just now I hear “God Rest Ye Weary Gentlemen.”
“It’s an exciting time Cyril so I thought you might like a pudding to go with your Christmas,” replied Mildred looking around and noticing that Cyril’s house looked the same as it always did…. sparse.
“Well, I’m not sure about Christmas. We celebrate his birthday at a different time,” said Cyril.
“You do? When?” asked Mildred.
“Every second Angelic Millennia, a huge celebration, days of plenty and speeches and all that, songs of praise and a feast like no other,” said Cyril momentarily remembering where he had come from.
All this confused Mildred so instead of taking the matter further she decided to cut her loses and carry on as a lot of things Cyril said to her were confusing.
“Anyway Cyril, come Christmas day, slice off a bit of pudding, add some ice-cream or custard and enjoy.”
“Thank you, Mildred,” said Cyril placing the pudding on his table. As Mildred got up to leave Cyril went into a chorus of ‘God Rest Ye Weary Gentlemen’ in a baritone voice that stopped Mildred in her tracks. His voice was sensuously alluring, and she listened mesmerised until he finished.
“Oh, my Cyril but that’s a magnificent voice you have,” gushed Mildred.
“Third baritone in the Angels Choir,” he replied, “I was always told I have the voice of an Angel.”
“Yes,” stammered Mildred heading out the door unsure her senses would ever recover from what she had just heard.
“Did I mention I knew the Gentlemen concerned?” called Cyril but Mildred had already left down the path to her place.