Were they indeed, as we used to sing during Advent morning assemblies in Marlborough Road Junior School, back in the mists of time when everything was in sepia, washing their socks by night?
I let the cat in (as a rescue cat she seems to meow more than the average moggie) and she walked into the living room, looked in disgust (OK, I'm embellishing the tale, but bear with me kind soul) and turned tail (literally) and padded out of the room.
What could cause such feline consternation? What had garnered such disturbance in the heart of the home?
Further investigation was required (mindful of the role of GKC's Fr Brown and the Tridentine-defending Agatha Christie in crime-solving) as to the nocturnal sojourn of the shepherds and the cat's cattiness.
|Looking smug - the runaway shepherds|
Was this going to be a daily affair? Would the wise men be next? Where would the animals opt for? Might the Holy Family set off early for Egypt?
Furthermore should I call in the media? How would the world react to our wandering Nativity scene players?
Or should I just have a word with our youngest who tends to get up very early, potter around getting toys, and then heads back to bed?
Which is the more credible explanation?