Dec. 23

We’ve just watched the most ludicrous Christmas Special in a long line of Christmas Specials. This is a time-honoured British classic of holiday viewing, and we’ve seen a variety over the years. There’s the traumatic All Creatures, where we thought Tricky Woo was dying. Dachshunds still aren’t speaking to us about that one.

There was the Maigret Christmas Special, which was bizarrely well-constructed. There’s a whole line of Dr. Who Christmas Specials that exist so that we can wail down the phone to our academic sister that ‘That didn’t make sense! It was great until I thought about it for five minutes and now I’m so confused, Erin!’

And there’s the obligatory Heartbeat Christmas Special, brought to you by Soppy Is Us.

But then. Then. Then they gave us the Sister Boniface Christmas Special.

Unless you’ve seen Sister Boniface, you probably aren’t aware of several things. It began as the unlikely spin-off to Fr. Brown. Except, unlike it’s parent show, it’s a comedy. There are March Hares less mad than this show, and the Christmas Special is the maddest of the bunch. In a move you couldn’t make up – except, you know, someone, somewhere did – it crosses the bottle plot of Murder on the Orient Express with the jewel theft of The Blue Carbuncle, the obligatory curse of – well, actually, let’s face it, about half a dozen bog-standard mystery plots – and the birth of a baby in an unlikely spot on Christmas Eve. Complete with wise men (well, some nuns) bearing gifts and a star (okay, an enhanced rail signal) guiding the nuns to the baby.

If you got all that, kudos to you. We just watched it and are thoroughly perplexed. There was a whole subplot where the Rev. Mother cancelled Christmas a la Oliver Cromwell, and another involving two extremely dotty old ladies trying to create The Best Christmas Ever.

This is probably why we capitulated and made a mug of Camomile Dreamland. How else are we supposed to unwind from that madness?

Actually, we’re hard on Sister Boniface, and it’s truly bonkers. Honest-to-God. But there’s also a great New Yorker article from years back about how it’s one of the best Catholic TV shows, simply because it recognizes that the nuns in it are people, as well as nuns. the eponymous Boniface has a PhD in science. Sister Peter loves the movies. Sister Lawrence loves to cook. They bicker and fight, and it gets a heck of a lot more right about religion than Fr Brown does. We haven’t once had to scream That’s not how confessional seals work at this show. So, you know, go watch it. But not without embracing the sheer insanity first.

Anyway, back to the tea. Camomile Dreamland is a rooibos-based tea, so we had hopes it would taste better than normal camomile. And it does. A low bar benefits everyone, right? On the other hand, it doesn’t really taste like much of anything, either. It’s been steeping away while we typed about the madness of some fictional nuns, and you’d think that would be enough time to taste of something, but…no. There’s a hint of something sweet in there, and we suspect rose petals. But the rooibos pretty much drowns out the taste of everything else, even the lemon.

On the other hand, we can’t taste the camomile, so that’s something.

So, what to pair with this tea? Have one about Mistletoe. Why? Blame Sr Boniface. It was pivotal to her scientific deductions. Also, we’re pretty sure this is saner. Hang on, what was it we said about that low bar…?

Mistletoe
Walter de la Mare

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Would you look at that. There’s not one stand-in crib scene. Not to worry, there’s another Christmas Special or ten round the corner…