Tom in Egypt // توم في مصر

For those of you who are technologically astute, and have no qualms with following me on that most often pilloried of fiends Twitter, you will have noticed that but days before my homecoming I "tweeted":  Home in 4 days, I dearly hope Blighty is suitably festive. (For my American audience, "Blighty" is how us Brits tenderly refer to Britain when given occasion.)


Well, it appears that someone, somewhere is listening. Festivity, or festive-ness - I can't decide which - is something no doubt unique to each and everyone. The Christmas I spent in Egypt with my family was wonderful, Chistmas lunch overlooking the pyramids and all, but festivity was in short supply. For about 2 months I've been happily listening to Andrea excitedly talk about her Tucson Christmas that is very clearly her ideal of festive-ness (which I hope to experience at the earliest opportunity :) For me, however, festivity-ness currently exists right now in Scouthead. The house has been tastefully decorated, there are hot mince pies in abundance, the living room smells deliciously of Christmas tree and, best of all, the trees and fields outside my bedroom window have been sprinkled with a generous dusting of snow.


For about as long as I can remember, classical music and carols have also been a part of my Christmas experience. Not necessarily performing, although there's been plenty of that over the years, but even just having a service of nine lessons and carols gently playing in the background. Classical music is something which, to me, seems strangely out of place in Cairo. Listening to Elgar's Cello Concerto seems almost bizarre as I'm wandering the streets of Downtown, and Cairo's metro is no place for Allegri's Miserere. I have, at times, managed to shut myself in the apartment and get through both discs of the Messiah, but still something feels wrong. Even in Alexandria I could listen to classical music (perhaps another escape provided by the vast blue-green of the Mediterranean) but Cairo seems almost antithetical to that very Western of traditions. One of the things I have missed most over the last six months has been long drives through England to the tune of Elgar and Vaughan Williams.


Last night, as I returned from visiting some friends in town, I experienced a beautifully festive, English moment as I was briefly caught in flurry of snowflakes whilst driving over the hill into Saddleworth, listening to my favourite of Britten's "A Ceremony of Carols". It was perfect.