There are few things more beautiful than Christmas carols at Chelsea Old Church in London. Built in 1157, this post-medieval jewel shines brightly on Christmas Eve, as families squeeze into its pews to tra la la to carols that nobody needs a songbook to remember. Children are given a single white candle and oranges pierced with cloves. It’s a miracle that no one’s hair doesn’t go up in flames. There’s always a nativity scene, with an adorably cute baby Jesus, and plenty of children dressed up as cows and goats. It’s charming and nostalgic, and would warm even Ebenezer’s cold heart. In the Bleak Midwinter is a favourite carol of mine. As a child, I sang it with my friend, Luisa Monachello in front of a large congregation. Only when I opened my mouth to hit the high note –– give my heart –– no sound came out. I froze. So, I always chuckle a little when that carol appears on the order of service. Silent Night is another favourite. When the candles are all lit, and the congregation starts to sing, Chelsea Old Church is truly majestic. It’s sad to think of it sitting empty today.