Life must be filled up

My groceries were delivered this morning by a chap in full elf kit: brightly patterned trousers, Christmas jumper, jaunty bobble hat. He said he hoped it would bring a smile to people’s faces. As it’s pitch dark and raining *again*, he succeeded. What a nice man.

Some lovely flowers arrived for me this morning, with cute festive lollipops to go with them (from Bunches). This where I would put a Christmas tree if I were having one, which this year, I’m not.

The postman told me Thursday would be his last day and he was very sorry about it. He said he didn’t agree with it because it meant he lost two day’s pay. It’s hard for the conscientious postie. I have more cards to hang up this afternoon but with nurses on strike and ambulances hopeless, I won’t be doing any climbing about, just in case.

Last week, (or was it the week before? Something has happened to time), I went shopping. Not just a quick trip to the village shop but actually going into town and in and out of shops, looking for books. As it turned out, I absolutely hated it and won’t be doing it again in a hurry. I did, however, come home with two bags full of books, mostly from charity shops. One (so heavy!) was this Norman Rockwell book, which I later found was a great bargain.

(Pic on LJ, where you can also see my completed jigsaw, an achievement for me.)

American artists are particularly good at Christmas (Susan Branch, Tasha Tudor), so the Rockwell looked promising. The pictures are lavishly produced but the rest of the contents are strange. There are Christmas stories (quite dull, the ones I’ve read), carols printed out with the music and so on; quite a hotchpotch. I was surprised by how many pictures included black people, which seemed a good thing until I saw that a story mentioned ‘the coloured maid, Alice’. Eew! It reminded me of The Help and put me right off. This book should have been revised before it was reprinted.

I also got: a book by Monty Don, Christmas novels by Jenny Colgan and Trisha Ashley (both now read), Sissinghurst by Adam Nicolson and Great Britain’s Great War by Jeremy Paxman, all in very good condition. I’m hoping these will last until at least after Christmas. I shall, of course, be reading A Christmas Carol as usual, even though everything feels so un-Christmassy.

I’ve started watching the old BBC series of The Box of Delights, just one episode at a time. It did the trick; partly nostalgia but mostly the music. Here’s the original from Hely-Hutchinson’s Carol Symphony.

What fearsome weather! Gales, lashing rain, lights on all day. This morning I went to a charities’ fair, where I got the kinds of bargains I might get at the market. The hall was heaving and very festive and cheerful. Many local charities had stalls (the hospital, the youth club, PRAMA) as well as mainstream charities like The Cats’ Protection League and the Lifeboats. You couldn’t move for Christmas cards, hampers of Christmas food for raffling and potential gifts new and used. I was knocked out by the amazing patchwork items which had been made for the hospital stall; incredibly good work. I bought a few cheap goodies plus some more expensive (and new) things for presents.



Books, of course. I was very restrained, I think. The Carola Dunn is one of her Cornish Mysteries, which I like. I love this cover for The Thirty-Nine Steps and as I no longer have a copy, I snapped it up.
( more buys )

Every year I fall for it; every single year. I get this feeling that Christmas isn’t really Christmas without the special edition of the Radio Times so I waste my money on something I will never finish reading before it’s out of date. It does contain some useful heads ups though: To Walk Invisible looks good. It’s a drama about the Brontës by Sally Wainwright, who is also the writer behind Last Tango in Halifax.

I’ve already mentioned the autumn edition of The Scribbler. I’ve now answered all the quiz questions I can manage off the top of my head so have some research to do. Just the kind of thing I enjoy.

The surprise this year is Country Life. It’s years since I bought a copy (expensive luxury) but was tempted by this issue. I’m glad I was. I’ve enjoyed reading about the amazing ‘grown’ furniture of Gavin Munro and how to look after the free range Cairngorm reindeer herd. If you look at the page, do spend enough time there to see the beautiful changing pictures at the top. The CL authors are all people who can actually write, which makes a nice change. The history of Gloucester Cathedral, the art of gilding and angels in art also pleased me, as did the always amusing Kit Hesketh-Harvey. The photography throughout is stunning. As for the advertisements for fine art, fine jewellery, fine furniture and other impossible luxuries, you can of course drool or ignore them completely, as you wish.

I spent the whole of today writing Christmas cards. Phew. This year I made more cards than I needed and had to decide which card was best suited to each recipient. So yesterday evening I spread the whole lot over the table and assigned them individually with Post-it notes. That certainly made today’s task easier. I could have taken a photo but then some of you might see which card you’re getting:-) Some I was sorry to part with and one I like so much I’m keeping it as a decoration.

I decided a while ago that instead of using labels on the envelopes I would write each by hand, as it’s a more personal touch. I’m glad I do this because it reminds me of the wondrousness of place names. There’s something of the Shipping Forecast about them: Aberchirder, Badshot Lea, Berwick upon Tweed, Church Crookham, Green Bottom, Long Crichel. I sit at my table and travel around the British Isles. That’s romantic.

The person getting this one never sees my journal.


*A Romance of a Christmas Card is a story by Kate Douglas Wiggin, mentioned here. ISTR it's a free book.

There won’t be any decorations up here until much closer to Christmas but I can understand why some people do put their trees up *much too early*. Anything to counteract the perpetual gloom we’re living in. Really, I might be living inside the Arctic Circle rather than south west England when it’s so dark all day long. Yesterday afternoon I decided to go up to the garden centre to visit the Christmas Wonderland, thinking that at least it would be bright and cheerful there. Huh! I don’t know if they’ve become obsessed with energy saving or what but it was dark there, too. The decorations area seemed to have no lighting at all except the twinkling lights on the various trees. So I was rather disappointed with this year’s Christmas effort. Star of the show was Santa’s Volkswagen, seen above, surrounded by animatronic elves and with the familiar little blue train chugging cheerfully around it. Definitely the toddlers’ favourite.
I’m afraid my pictures are not very good but here’s some more.
( more pics )

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