A Very Frome Festive Week
- Daisy Steel
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
There’s something about Christmas in Frome that sneaks up on you. It doesn’t arrive all at once in a blaze of tinsel and noise. Instead, it unfolds gently. A wreath here. A small hand clutching yours there. A pair of headphones and a spontaneous conga through a supermarket when you least expect it.
This past week felt like a perfect snapshot of why I love living here.
It began with wreath making. There is something deeply grounding about sitting around a table with greenery, pine needles, ribbon and wire, hands getting sticky with sap, chatting as you work. Time slows down. Conversation flows easily. Everyone’s wreath ends up a little different, wonky in its own way. Walking home with mine felt like carrying a small declaration that Christmas had officially arrived.
A few days later came Santa’s grotto, this time through the eyes of my granddaughter. Watching Christmas through a one year old’s gaze is an absolute gift. The lights are brighter. The decorations are fascinating rather than familiar. Santa himself is less a concept and more a very intriguing man in red. Frome does this so beautifully. No queues that drain the joy. Just smiles, patience and the sense that this moment matters. She won't remember it but I will treasure it forever.
And then came the crescendo of the week. A silent disco around town.
If you had told me a few years ago that I would be dancing around Frome in a Santa hat, led by Mrs Christmas herself, I might have raised an eyebrow. Yet there we were. Headphones on. Music pumping silently into our ears. Ginny from MojoMoves, resplendent as Mrs Christmas, guiding us through the streets with boundless energy and festive flair.
We danced outside the Rye Bakery. We twirled by the Valentine’s lamp. There were Santa hats everywhere, and yes, even an elf joined the party. The highlight, without question, was the conga through Iceland. Shoppers paused mid trolley push, some bewildered, others laughing, a few joining in for a moment. It was joyful, ridiculous and completely irresistible.
The grand finale by the Christmas tree at the Boyle Cross fountain felt like the perfect ending. Lights glowing, music still pulsing through our headphones, strangers connected by nothing more than shared silliness and seasonal spirit.
What struck me most across the whole week was how connected it all felt. From crafting a wreath, to sharing Santa with the smallest member of our family, to dancing through town with people I knew and many I didn't. This is Frome at Christmas. Creative. Kind. Slightly eccentric. Utterly human.
Festive weeks don’t need to be grand to be memorable. Sometimes they are made up of pine needles on the floor, tiny hands gripping yours, and the simple freedom of dancing through a town you love.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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