Christmas beat goes on

So the only thing we can possibly do is learn to love the things that refuse to stay the same. City road routes, shopping malls, weird green shiny balls that appear overnight hanging from trees, hairstyles and baby names — just chill and embrace the new.

However, there are some things that doggedly refuse to change, such as holes in country roads, the voting habits of country conservatives and my dog’s demand for a walk at 3pm.

Luckily, I am a progressive when it comes to mixing things up a bit and trying something different. I adhere to my old mum’s dictum that a change is as good as a holiday, so this year I stepped right out of my comfort zone and went to Murchison’s Christmas Carols instead of Shepparton’s.

This took a great leap of faith because the Shepparton Carols By Candlelight at Queen’s Gardens has been a family tradition for 25 years and it is now a big production involving a monster stage with Bruce Springsteen sound engineering, Coldplay lights, Beyoncé dancing, and an audience of thousands.

How could Murchison possibly compete with that?

We arrived under threatening clouds and a spattering of rain at Riverside Gardens on Stevenson St as dancers from Murchison Primary School delivered a limb-pumping performance to a pounding soundtrack of Christmas tunes — some familiar and others just plain strange. But they were footstompingly strange.

The joy on the faces of those Beyoncé wannabes as they threw their arms and legs skywards was electric. I am glad we had front-row seats so we could be dragged out by first-aiders when we fainted without disturbing the crowd.

Next came a series of musical performances by young people from Avenel. Piano players, singers and bongo drummers were all given the chance to deliver the wide-eyed and heart-shivering delight that only young children on a stage for the first time can bring.

We were also treated to a winter log-fire performance from the accomplished musicians of the Shepparton Brass and Wind orchestra who had braved darkening storm clouds and the potholes of the Mooroopna to Murchison road to bring warmth and good cheer to the simple folk out in the sticks. All we needed was some roasted chestnuts and a smattering of snow to complete the postcard of all my childhood Christmases in Wales.

Behind us there were market stalls and people in small groups shaking hands and hugging as they remembered the floods and how different things were last year. Then visitors from the North Pole arrived and the little dancers and singers forgot their carefully choreographed team performances and became maniacal individuals demanding lollies. It was every elf for themself.

But I can’t deny the selfish highlight of the night was watching my son on guitar perform Little Drummer Boy with his son on drums. This confirmed to me that despite all the changes and upsets we have endured over the past few years the song remains the same, and the life-affirming beat of love and human connection goes on.

Look, I know what you’re saying: why doesn’t he go to Shepparton’s carols as well? They are on different nights, after all. I can only say that I am of an age when too much excitement all at once can be fatal. So this Sunday I’m staying home to listen to my seasonal favourites growled by Bob Dylan on his Christmas in the Heart album of 2009. Things were different then, but they were also the same.