REID Street primary school in Darlington has 172 children, all of whom had a role of some sort in Tuesday night's Christingle. Multiply that by two for parents, give or take the odd back shift or otherwise engagement, by four for grandparents, maiden aunts and favourite first cousins and by a still higher factor for those who know how well Reid Street traditionally enacts these things, and some idea may form of the throng in Holy Trinity church, to witness the happy occasion.

For those of us who had children at a small village school, the effect was still more spectacular. Where we live, they were pushed even to find three wise men, still are.

Arriving 20 minutes early, parking half a mile away, the column squeezed into a side aisle, though with what at Wembley Stadium - pillared, like Holy Trinity - is euphemistically termed a restricted view.

In football parlance, "restricted view" means that you can see the bottom left hand corner flag. For other reasons, of course, some of us have a restricted view at the best of times. Anne Ferguson, the head, appealed for little ones (some hope) to occupy parental knees; Christopher Wardale, the Vicar, wandered vaguely up and down as if a few empty pews might, like Moses and the Dead Sea, open up in front of him.

"He reminds me of the roller coaster attendant at Lightwater Valley," said The Boss, making a guest appearance in this column. (A guest appearance, indeed, in church.) We sat next to an umbrella. Outside, where several of the 172 held lanterns in cheerful welcome, it rained most fearfully. Many hundreds stood at the back, the babel before the service so great that we were reminded of the couplet from the carol:

Oh still your noise, ye men of war

And hear the angels sing.

The angels sang splendidly, starting with an upbeat Hark the Herald - to which a yellow lamb appeared energetically to be dancing - and into a series of readings to proclaim the good news of Christmas.

The Reid Street kids - not to be confused with the Bash Street Kids, impeccably behaved, this lot - did wonderfully, though not even that sturdy seat of learning has cured the curious County Durham habit of pronouncing "child" with a minimum of three syllables.

There were banners, too - glorious banners, star spangled banners, more banners than Durham Big Meeting. One featured a heavily pregnant Mary riding on a donkey, her smile considered one of repose.

"Must have been on the pethidine already," observed The Boss, anxious to earn her keep.

Then there was the infants' nativity play, angels appearing from the realms of glory and from sundry other dimly glimpsed places. Doubtless enchanting, it proved elusive to both sight and sound.

As they used to do when the big picture hit the Hippodrome in Shildon, Reid Street are going to have to consider having a second house.

The children expressed their youthful hopes for the season of goodwill - no war, no crime, no drugs, no hunger, no suffering. None offered the ambition that Darlington might win the third division, or Boyzone make Christmas number one. Not out loud, anyway.

Then, lights dimmed, to the Christingles, the candles-in-an-orange device that has become so popular - and so memorably effective - in children's Christmas services.

They streamed, solemn faced, from the back, an anxious teacher occasionally stepping in to ensure that a poor bairn didn't set light to the one immediately in front.

Mrs Ferguson said that at Reid Street they liked to retain the Christian elements of Christmas - "there's a noticeable change in the atmosphere throughout the school, it becomes electric" - Mr Wardale commented, inarguably, that it was a great sight. "The rest of the year we thought they were little devils, and tonight they've changed into angels," he joked.

The youngsters and their Christingles went out, perfectly synchronised, to the tune of The Little Drummer Boy; baskets at the back invited donations to Shelter. The rest of the overflowing church took very much longer to emerge. Perhaps we just didn't want to leave.

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