Our Holiday Traditions, Vol. 3 – Carols by Candlelight

Personal traditions can be a balm to the soul in a hectic world. Here at The Attic on Eighth, we hail from all over the globe and so we head into the holiday season with a variety of traditions influencing our content. In this series inspired by and dedicated to our founding Lifestyle Editor, Lee Clark, we hope to add to the joyous community spirit of the season and share holiday traditions that are dear to our hearts. In this third volume, founding Attic member Amy Richardson brings us with her to a candlelit carol service.

St Michael’s church, photographed by Amy Richardson.

I have only ever missed one Carols by Candlelight service at St Michael’s. I was a couple of days old and still in the hospital after being born nearly five weeks early. That year I came home on Christmas Eve and went to church for the very first time on Christmas Day. And so my long association of Christmas with the traditions of my village church began. 

A favourite carol, here stylized by Vintage Verses.

One of the main things, aside from making/helping the children to make decorations for the church and Christingle (a celebration that involves oranges, sweets, and small children holding lit candles in aid of the Children’s Society, a charity which does fantastic work), is our Carols by Candlelight service. Held the Sunday before Christmas, this is when the festivities truly begin for me. Along with half the village (the population was less than 1000 when I was growing up), my family would cram into St Michael’s at 4.30pm for a good old festive singsong lit by hundreds of flickering tealights. Amusingly, it is also the time that our family friend, a former fire chief, has kittens for an hour and a half as we totally break fire regulations.Every year has the same format. Carols, readings, and a short talk on the true meaning of Christmas. Sometimes the layout of the church changes – one year the chairs were turned 90 degrees so we faced the long wall. Sometimes there are videos now that we use projectors linked to the computer and not an old fashioned overhead. One year the vicar used his favourite Christmas adverts. Another, the giant wooden nativity, with its adorable child-sized cartoon figures, was placed around the church and lit with spotlights when their part of the story was read. But it is always essentially the same service, with the same carols and the same cosy sense of being in a room with people I love and who love me. (I always say that the best thing about going back to the church in the village I grew up in is that I know that there are a bunch of people there who are genuinely pleased to see me). 

Because we rarely hold with too much tradition, the carol service also involves jokes, mulled wine, and a mountain of mince pies. Every year the congregation comes together to donate mince pies for the various events held throughout Advent, and every year on Christmas Day members of the church family are sent home with several boxes of mince pies because we have far too many. It’s lovely to realise how generous these people are, some of whom I’ve known all my life and practically helped raise me. It’s also wonderful how welcoming they are to those who might only step foot in a church at Christmas for a carol service or who might be new to the village and aren’t sure how to get to know people. I might see the same faces every year – old friends, parents of people I went to school with, proper ‘village’ people – but there’s always one or two strangers among the crowd and they will be sought out and chatted to and made welcome. It’s what we do. It’s the village way of life.

I live in London now and I nearly had to work on the Sunday before Christmas. However, I managed to change my days and now I can go back home for my 26th Carols by Candlelight. I can’t wait.

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Amy Richardson lives and works in London at an internationally renowned art gallery, which isn't as glamorous or exciting as it sounds. She holds a BA in English, an MA in Medieval Studies, and is a Founding Member of The Attic on Eighth.