The Western Road School must have dredged the river in Lewes for mud for use as make-up for its Christmas play.

I'm joking of course but it certainly looked as if the school had been scooping up some samples for use in its unusual story of how we look at others' misfortunes.

At this point I have to declare an interest, since my Honorary Granddaughter had a leading part in the show and my invitation was on a par with a summons to Buckingham Palace.

It was based on a real incident, when some of the young people had seen an elderly person carrying several plastic bags, which they assumed contained shopping.

They were told by the headteacher, who was with them, they contained everything the person owned, as he was homeless and had to carry everything with him as he searched for somewhere to sleep on the streets of the city.

The young people were so shocked, they asked what they could do to help. The show came about and all the money raised went to help the homeless.

What a wonderful Christmas story, in this highly-commercialised world, and what an example those young people set for all of us. The whole school took part and the result was an evening full of enchantment, humour and moments of utter hysteria.

It began with the "mud-encrusted" crowd of the chorus representing the homeless, who, on recognising members of their family as they strolled, skipped or simply wandered in to start the show, gave a number of signs of recognition, ranging between thumbs up, thumbs down, a little wave, or a quiet shout.

Caps were worn at a jaunty angle and following the script varied between total indifference and rigid adherence, accompanied by a sharp dig in the ribs from a neighbour as a prompt.

There was also a lame black and white cat, whose importance to the script eluded me.

The play centred round a homeless woman living in a cardboard box and the attitude of those who crossed her path.

She fought to keep her dignity and was not keen to take what she saw as charity from two young people who wanted to give her some money.

They had been told by their mother not to have anything to do with beggars and tramps but they decided that they wanted to try to persuade their mother to invite the woman to share Christmas.

Eventually, Mother gave in and the woman was taken into their home, where she had a bath, got into some clean clothes and, as my mother would have said, "polished up very nicely".

It was a simple story with a very strong message at this time of year, when we love to have our families around us, that there are those who have no one to care.

The play ended with the most enchanting Christmas tableau around a simple crib. The shepherds, complete with very large crooks, the three Kings in magnificent costumes and the angels with silver halos, all processed with varying degrees of direction from the wonderful members of staff who had put the show together.

It was an evening of enchantment with a message, which I suspect those young people will not easily forget. The leading parts were all wonderfully well-played and each child stamped their own interpretation on the crowd scenes.

Of course, everyone was a star to their own family but the real star was the play itself and the teaching staff who recognised the value of the story it would tell. It was a night I shall remember with great pleasure.