Tuesday, December 8


The other night the family and I went along to the Carols by Candlelight. Christmas is one of my favourite times of the year and each year Carols signify the start of the wonderful festive season.

As we entered through the gates with thousands of other happy families we were greeted by the sound of the pipes and drums band. The sound they can create is truly magical and I could listen to well played bagpipes for hours on end.

As I walked past I admired their kilts and wondered from which clans they were from. As a descendant from the Campbells I am always interested in the various tartans and the family behind them. I briefly thought of my dad.

We got ourselves settled and started eating our picnic dinner while we waited for the show to begin. Looking down from our seats on the hill I could see the pipes and drum band reassembling and preparing to march on stage. They truly are talented to be able to play and walk at the same time. They started playing Waltzing Matilda. I could feel my eyes start to well with tears. One because it sounded so beautiful and two because I was reminded of my dad. I knew how much he would have loved to have heard it. I wanted to tell my girls how much he would have loved it but I couldn't. The words would just not leave my mouth, unlike the tears that were now rolling down my cheeks. I really miss my dad. No like really, really, really miss him.

To top things off once the band made it on stage and finished the unofficial Australian anthem they began to play Amazing Grace. By now I was a blubbering mess. (Much like I am as I try to write this out) This was one of the songs played at Dad's funeral. And to the credit of the band they did a beautiful job, far better actually than the version we found for dad.

My darling angle of a three year old was the only person to notice my sadness. Bless her little heart. Her questions as to why mummy was sad just made the tears fall faster. It was all fixed though with the cuddle and kiss she gave me after I explained to her how the beautiful music made me think of granpa and how much he would have liked to have heard it. It never ceases to amaze me that even at her tender young age she can be so understanding. Children really are a treasure and often underestimated.

The rest of the evening was magical. It filled me with the warmest fuzziest feeling I have felt for a long time. There is something special about sitting around with candles and singing songs.

Credit for the photo goes to budog who you can find more about here

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