Call the Midwife

Ripped By mstoll

Christmas is the celebration of a baby's birth.

It is the story of a mother's love, her fear, her faith,

and her determination. It tells of promises fulfilled,

a cradle rocked, a journey both concluded and begun.

It is the story of all that is cherished in a world where too little is known.

...and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

We seek it here, we seek it there.

Indeed, one is obliged to ask oneself

if one is in pursuit of a comestible item, or the scarlet pimpernel!

Sister Monica Joan. Never mind that now.

Would you just carry on cutting out the greaseproof circles?

The mincemeat will be ready for the jars soon.

Are we going to get that tea in the clinical room or aren't we?

Oh, I'm sorry. I had a problem with the desiccated coconut.

Oh, if we have to wait much longer, you'll have a problem

with a desiccated corpse. Mine!

And lo! The angel Gabriel appeared, carrying the first tin of Quality Street

of the season!

I'll get it.

Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.

- It's our twins case! - Oh!

Yes, yes, of course. Yes.

See? You all thought me a fool to persist in my endeavours.

But behold, I have located the brandy.

Now's the time to souse the Christmas pudding!

Just don't go sousing yourself into the bargain.

You give us enough gip when you're stone-cold sober!

Tea. Now. Then you and I are off on the ulcer rounds.

Good afternoon, everyone, and, er, thank you,

- boys and girls... - Shh, quiet.

...for being nice and quiet whilst the babies were being christened.

The Cradle Roll service

- is a very special one... - Take one and pass it down.

...because it's one of the few days of the year when all the children

in the parish get to come together to celebrate being part

of our big church family.

Nurse Gilbert, our Sunday school teacher, is going to bring

the children's choir to the front, where they'll sing

Silent Night to help us start our journey towards Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Rosemary McConlough, Doctor.

I've never heard such a racket!

They were flat, they weren't singing together.

And one of them was picking his nose!

But they had nobody to follow. Why didn't you sing with them?

Because I'm practically a baritone since my voice broke.

- Excuse me, Mrs Turner? - Oh, Mrs Willens!

Wasn't that a lovely service? And the church looked immaculate,

you keep it so spick and span.

Oh, it's just elbow grease. Anyone could do it.

Begging your pardon, Mrs Turner, when the nurse came for the doctor,

were they called out to my niece?

I shouldn't say, really, but I believe they were!

Hard luck, sweetie. You fired the starter's pistol a bit too soon.

Nothing's on the move just yet.

But I've had enough! I want them out now!

No cheeking the nurse, young madam. She came into this world

shouting the odds and she's not stopped since!

Oh, come along, Rosemary. Let's see if we can get you a bit more comfortable.

The main thing is to get some rest

and remember that both babies are doing well.

How's she getting on, Eileen?

Stay nice and warm.

Walter sent some satsumas from his barrow.

No, it was a false alarm. We'll have them anyway.

Plenty more where they came from.

Oh, it's bitter. A nice cup of tea, I think.

Oh, no!

Sister?

Sister, can you answer me?

What on earth's that noise?

Poor Eileen looked worn to a thread.

Rosemary's always been a madam.

Once she's had those twins, it's gonna be all hands on deck.

Family will rally round to help 'em. We always do.

Not sure I'm wanted.

Eat your grapes. Good for your kidney stones.

Kidney stones don't bother me any more.

Oh, love,

I dunno why you go to that bloomin' Cradle Roll service.

You end up in shreds every year!

How can I stay away, when Lorna's name's still on the list of members?

They don't rub it out, Walter, just cos she's not with us any more.

I know, love.

Rosemary's got two lovely matching cots for these new twins.

On the never-never, probably, but, oh, they do look smart.

I'm glad now I never offered her Lorna's cradle.

I'd have liked it to have had a new home.

A little life inside it.

Yeah, maybe not.

Sister Monica Joan's in bed with a fever and dosed up on aspirin.

Doctor's going to call tomorrow.

She sounded quite delirious when I went past her room.

Poor old thing. Would it be frightfully callous to enquire about the pudding?

According to Sister Evangelina,

we'll be having Swiss roll with custard for dessert on Christmas Day.

She's in a perfectly savage mood. Purple cellophane!

I think this one has Nurse Mount's name on it.

Marvellous! The perfect accompaniment to a whisky nightcap.

You won't tempt me, I'm afraid.

Alcohol's perfectly beastly on the complexion.

Are there any coffee creams? I need them to take away the taste of the glue!

18 down, 24 four to go!

If you lick my stamps,

I'll give you what appears to be the only coffee cream in the tin.

One for Delia? How is she?

Well, I believe. Her mother hasn't written in a while.

Head injury can be a ghastly thing to recover from.

And she was in quite a bad way when they took her home to Wales.

Yes, she was.

Now where's that coffee cream?

Oh!

Thank you.

I'm so glad you're here. I almost called you again.

Not I, nor he, who commands us all.

Get back into bed! Before the hot water bottle goes cold!

Come in any time you like!

Nanny put a hot brick to my feet.

I knew it was winter then,

when it leached the smell of starch out of the sheets.

Now sit down!

Temperature of 102, coughing like a drain,

and dotty as a two-bob watch.

I can see that.

Ow!

You're gonna have to lay off the mince pies, Fred Buckle,

or never mind splitting your trousers,

you're not gonna fit in this Santa suit at all.

Well, the kiddies leave them out for me.

They'd be disappointed if they didn't disappear.

Yeah, but you're not the real Father Christmas, remember,

you're just one of his helpers.

Yeah, but I'd look shocking in an elf suit!

I could do with an elf or two to help me in the shop this afternoon.

I've got the entire Christmas raffle display to put in my window,

or I'll have half the Poplar shopkeepers baying for my blood.

I wish I'd never said I'd take the responsibility.

It'll be good for trade, though, won't it?

Well, I've only donated a couple of balls of wool and some nappy pins.

The rest of the space is all taken up with other people's stuff.

Tins of powdered milk and I dunno know what.

Well, that's not very season-of-goodwill.

Ow!

Pass me the scissors. I'm not biting this, it's too close to your backside.

A high temperature and a nasty cough.

But what we don't want at her age is pneumonia.

We've been more worried about her confusion

than her physical health lately.

Exactly! If she goes any further down doolally hill

we won't be able to look after her.

I've prescribed Distaval as a sedative.

It'll calm her down, and perhaps make her behaviour less erratic.

Distaval won't bring our Christmas pudding back from the dead.

Or from the ceiling.

We're about to go into Compline. I'll look in again afterwards.

Very well. But there's no need for you to linger.

Sister Monica Joan and I have established the rules of play,

and thus far she is abiding by them.

My mother's hands were cold like yours.

Mother's been looming rather large this evening, I'm afraid.

That's often the way, when she's unwell. These sometimes help.

Mmm?

They are family heirlooms, and she cherishes them.

Oh.

I can't consume that.

The tang of urine assaults me even from the plate.

It isn't kidney, Sister Monica Joan. It's liver.

And it's terribly good for you.

And if you eat quickly, we can listen to Desert Island Discs

while you eat your semolina.

I have tired of the wireless, there are too many jumbled voices.

I like television better.

There isn't a television at Nonnatus House.

There's one in the window of the new shop by the tunnel. Have you seen it?

No.

We have one at home.

But I won't be seeing that for quite some time.

Why is that, child?

Don't encourage her! There will be ample salt in that gravy already.

You don't need tears in it as well.

I can't go home for Christmas, Sister Monica Joan.

We're going to be too busy. Sister Julienne told me this morning.

But the very purpose of Christmas is to revisit where one's roots lie!

Was Christ himself not born in Bethlehem

because his father and mother were called

to their birthplace for the census?

All should head homeward, if their natal home still stands.

My natal home was razed to the ground

when they made improvements to the Kirkstall Road in Leeds.

I'm rather looking forward to filling the mead cup

and draining the barrel in Nonnatus House.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

We'll have a splendid time.

And so the bishop said that BBC television want to film a carol service

in an ordinary London church and broadcast it on Christmas Day.

How nice.

Well, I think it would be more than nice.

I think it will be wonderful! For the whole of the parish.

Our parish?