Getting off the train last night, for the second night running we were serenaded by thirty little angels with thirty little voices like thirty little female David Beckhams. It's the local brownies' down-platform carol service.

What I don't know is whether they start singing as the train pulls into the platform or as the doors open for us to dismount. Or whether they carry on singing for the few folk on the London bound platform on their way to an evening of fun/work/home etc.

Of course it's not just for our pleasure, but these selfless little urchins are collecting our money for charity (British children's of course). They look so innocent as they sing so quietly and rattle their buckets so loudly. 'Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled' JANGLE JANGLE JANGLE.

I'm sure they're going to be here all week (or at least until I cough up some money). The kids and their adult companions, including the woman in the wheelchair who's here to get our sympathy, and the little old fat man dressed as Father Christmas who's here to....

Wait a minute! This isn't right! What's he doing here? And why are his hands in his pockets?
Come on, girls. To the chorus...

'Hey! Santa! Leave those kids alone!'