It haunts me all year. An instrumental extravaganza I’ve only heard on Radio Classique Montreal, strings and horns and a crazy cuckoo bird. Once, the blasted song came on while I was in the bathtub, and I almost ended up in the hospital. My zeal to get to the computer and divine the song left me sprawling on the floor, bedecked in glitter and suds and nothing else.
MTM enjoyed that particular Lush bath bomb.
But, when I found the song list, my beloved cuckoo song was absent. Skipped. Anonymous.
I beat against the keys with my sudsy claws, incensed. Why was the cuckoo song a mystery, only to be savored in one hotel room, a few days a year?
Life was unfair.
But, not this year. I found the story of my beloved Cuckoo Song.
Perhaps you have heard of him.
Leopold’s Kindersinfonie, whether he wrote it or not, is one of the things that means Christmas to me. It’s exuberant chords and grandiose string sections, coupled with the plaintive cuckoo, signal that I’ve arrived in my Happy Christmas Place.
And, my Happy Boxing Day Place.
Now, to get to those boxes……………..