I wasn't always an angel. Once I was a tree and then one day I was chopped down, had pieces cut out of me and was painted by a wonderful artist. Now I look absolutely marvellous (even though I say so myself!). Most of the year I am in a cupboard in St. Peter's Church with Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus and two obnoxious animals. It's not that there's anything really wrong with the cow and the donkey...they just take up an awful lot of room. Early on in December we are all taken out, dusted down and arranged in a group at the top of the Church. Sometimes I'm beside Mary and once I was just behind the Baby Jesus!

One dreadful year I was actually put behind the donkey and I couldn't see a thing, but that was when old Fr. Brady was around and he had no imagination. It is my favourite month in the whole year. I catch up on all my regulars and see how they have fared during the previous eleven months. There's Ned, in his late seventies, confined to a wheelchair with his wife, May - always in attendance. I worry a bit about May...every year Ned seems to get heavier and more helpless while May looks as if a gust of wind would blow her over.

Worn out she is, and too proud to get Home Help or ask for some assistance. They were both in their sixties when Ned had the stroke and now they don't realise they're getting on. But it's good to see them year after year. They always stay a long time at the crib.
And then there's Sister Angela and her twenty five junior infants. Sister Angela and I have something special between us. Maybe it's because she's called after me. She always comes on the very first day and invariably says "Look at the beautiful Angel, children." And then we smile at each other.

Another of my "regulars" is Anna. Poor Anna. Once, Anna had a son who was one of Sister Angela's 'little angels'. He was a right tearaway - always in and out of trouble. I used to think maybe it was because of his name - Elvis – he got such a teasing over it!
I could never understand why Anna called him that in the first place. Sure, you'd have to fight your way through life with that around your neck...unless you could sing of course! Elvis was mad about football and used to wear a Manchester United shirt all the time, winter and summer. It had 'Ooh Ah' printed on the front and 'Cantona' printed on the back. He'd even wear the collar turned up, just like his hero. Anyway, Elvis graduated from just being wild to stealing. I even saw him taking a purse from an old lady during Mass! Then he was expelled from school and soon afterwards disappeared altogether. Anna changed almost overnight. From being a bright bustling little lady she became quiet, sad and old. I once overheard her praying at the crib for Elvis who she thought was in Australia. So he mustn't have kept in touch, I thought.

And now it's Christmas Eve night again. The Church looks beautiful, full of flowers and candles. It looks like it will be 'standing room only' for Midnight Mass, I thought, as I watched it fill up. Here comes Ned...but wait where's May? There's a younger lady pushing him up the aisle! What did it mean? The donkey saw my concern and said out of the side of his mouth 'May died at Easter. That's Ned's Home Help.' I felt sad. I thought (and not for the first time) devoted couples like May and Ned should really die in pairs.

The church filled up quickly. No sign of Anna. Ah, here she is holding a little toddler by the hand. And she's smiling! For the first time in years she looks happy. The tall young man beside her looks familiar. It couldn't be...but it is...Elvis! He'd got older, of course, but I'd have recognised him anywhere. He still had the same cheeky expression but there was love in it too, as he looked at his mother and then smiled at the tall pretty girl beside him.

'This is my grandchild,' Anna whispered to the Baby Jesus. 'Thank you for bringing them home to me for Christmas.' Elvis' wife turned to him saying: 'You were right Eric, it really is a beautiful crib, especially the Angel.'

Eric! So he really had changed!