My latest book recommendation is 'When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit' by the remarkable Judith Kerr. She is now 91 years old, still sharp, still focussed, and still working as an author and illustrator for children. She comes over as the most impressive of English ladies, educated, articulate, and a great communicator with all ages. She is delightful. But 'Pink Rabbit', and the follow-up 'Bombs on Aunt Dahlia' begin when she was a nine-year-old German-Jewish child living a comfortable life in Berlin in 1933. Her father was a popular journalist and author and outspokenly anti-Nazi. Elections were to take place, and he had heard that he was at the top of the Nazi blacklist. They needed to get out of Germany, quickly. Within a week, the whole family were refugees.
It's a fascinating story and Judith's strong, humorous spirit shines through the telling. Children are encouraged to read Anne Frank - they should read this too. I learned a lot about London in the blitz that I never knew before.
When I go to London the train gets in at Kings Cross. If I'm going to the British Library, Scholastic Publishing, or one of the places where I sometimes stay I turn left and walk along Euston Road a bit. In future, I'll remember that I'm walking past the site of the Hotel Continental, which in the 1940s was crammed with European refugees until it was destroyed in the Blitz.
Not only London was bombed. That little bit of Tyneside where my family and Tony's came from was a vital place for engineering and shipbuilding, and that was pummelled night after night. Ah, but it wasn't really the engineering works Hitler was aiming for. It was my mum's Auntie Annie. She was bombed out of three different houses, so she reckoned that Hitler was after her and when he got her the war would stop.
He never did get that tough Geordie woman. Another grand lady who lived to tell the tale.
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Friday, 15 November 2013
zebras at school
I was sorting out my desk in the attic today when I thought I heard thunder. Then it stopped being thunder and became drumming. I looked down at the school playground near our house. Along came the drummers, accompanied by tigers, zebras, a snow leopard, a banana and a lot of people in Newcastle United shirts.
No, it wasn't a dream. It was 'Children in Need'.
For the benefit of those of you overseas, Children in Need is a big fund-raising event in the UK every year. It's always on a Friday in November and all sorts of organisations go totally round the cuckoo tree to raise money. All the supermarkets and a lot of the shops have collections and the staff dress up. The mascot is Pudsey Bear, a yellow bear with a bandage over one eye, who pops up everywhere at this time of year. You can buy Pudsey mugs, Pudsey teatowels, Pudsey cupcakes, and, of course, small cuddly Pudsies. At the schools they usually have a dress down day which is really a dress up day (see above). They've been going to school in onesies, pyjamas, super-hero costumes - and that's only the teachers. At LYS's office, they had a Teddy Bear's Picnic. Turn any corner in town this evening and you found a children's choir or a steel band playing to raise money. Tony's choir sang. And there was face-painting, and a few brave souls getting their legs waxed for Children in Need. (Don't go there.)
Then there are the ones who get sponsored for walking, cycling, rowing (there's a lot of rowing round here) and (oh, pleeeease!) sponsored silences. Just give me a minute to think about that one. Mmmmm. Mental note for next year. What will they pay me to shut up?
Up to now, Children in Need has raised seven million, and it should be five or six times that at least when all the money's in. And it all goes in grants to local charities and needs. It provides funding for projects with children who have special needs of any kind, traumatised and disadvantaged children,young carers, children who've just fallen through the state's safety net and are in poverty. There are a lot of those. Believe me, the state safety net these days has holes you could drop an elephant through.
So today, let's all chip in for Children in Need. And tomorrow let's see what we can do about why they're in need in the first place.
No, it wasn't a dream. It was 'Children in Need'.
For the benefit of those of you overseas, Children in Need is a big fund-raising event in the UK every year. It's always on a Friday in November and all sorts of organisations go totally round the cuckoo tree to raise money. All the supermarkets and a lot of the shops have collections and the staff dress up. The mascot is Pudsey Bear, a yellow bear with a bandage over one eye, who pops up everywhere at this time of year. You can buy Pudsey mugs, Pudsey teatowels, Pudsey cupcakes, and, of course, small cuddly Pudsies. At the schools they usually have a dress down day which is really a dress up day (see above). They've been going to school in onesies, pyjamas, super-hero costumes - and that's only the teachers. At LYS's office, they had a Teddy Bear's Picnic. Turn any corner in town this evening and you found a children's choir or a steel band playing to raise money. Tony's choir sang. And there was face-painting, and a few brave souls getting their legs waxed for Children in Need. (Don't go there.)
Then there are the ones who get sponsored for walking, cycling, rowing (there's a lot of rowing round here) and (oh, pleeeease!) sponsored silences. Just give me a minute to think about that one. Mmmmm. Mental note for next year. What will they pay me to shut up?
Up to now, Children in Need has raised seven million, and it should be five or six times that at least when all the money's in. And it all goes in grants to local charities and needs. It provides funding for projects with children who have special needs of any kind, traumatised and disadvantaged children,young carers, children who've just fallen through the state's safety net and are in poverty. There are a lot of those. Believe me, the state safety net these days has holes you could drop an elephant through.
So today, let's all chip in for Children in Need. And tomorrow let's see what we can do about why they're in need in the first place.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
Places and dreams
Every now and again I have a little daydream about places I really want to go. There are some I've visited before, but not enough, and want to go back to. Mostly they're in the UK - I've never been a globetrotter - but one or two more far flung.
So I'd love to go back to
Copenhagen
Salzburg
The Setesdal in Norway
The New Forest (there's so much of it, and so much wildlife, and the villages around it are pretty)
Kingussie (red squirrels)
North Wales, and especially Anglesey (beaches, landscapes, historical Christian sites and more red squirrels)
Norfolk - people in the UK tend to make rude remarks about Norfolk. Yes, really. But we've only been there once, for Tony's ordination in Norwich, and we'd like to go back. The skies are big in Norfolk.
Wells. A fairytale city. The Bishop's Palace has a moat round it, with swans and ducks swimming about, and the Cathedral is stunning.
And I've never been to the Channel Islands or the Scillies, and that's on the list. I had a delightful letter recently from a reader on the Isle of Skye, and that would be good, too - I've been there once, just on a day trip when I was something-teen.
Switzerland.
Brussels (by the way, Tony, are you reading this?)
And there are places I don't want to go to because it would be so sad if the reality wasn't up to what I'd imagined. Venice looks so lovely and romantic but I suspect it would disappoint. Paris, too.
This leaves me thinking about story landscapes. Where would I like to go? Apart from Mistmantle and Narnia, of course. I don't think I'd like Never-never-land. I'd love to live in Lucy Boston's 'Green Knowe'. What about you? Places and dreams?
So I'd love to go back to
Copenhagen
Salzburg
The Setesdal in Norway
The New Forest (there's so much of it, and so much wildlife, and the villages around it are pretty)
Kingussie (red squirrels)
North Wales, and especially Anglesey (beaches, landscapes, historical Christian sites and more red squirrels)
Norfolk - people in the UK tend to make rude remarks about Norfolk. Yes, really. But we've only been there once, for Tony's ordination in Norwich, and we'd like to go back. The skies are big in Norfolk.
Wells. A fairytale city. The Bishop's Palace has a moat round it, with swans and ducks swimming about, and the Cathedral is stunning.
And I've never been to the Channel Islands or the Scillies, and that's on the list. I had a delightful letter recently from a reader on the Isle of Skye, and that would be good, too - I've been there once, just on a day trip when I was something-teen.
Switzerland.
Brussels (by the way, Tony, are you reading this?)
And there are places I don't want to go to because it would be so sad if the reality wasn't up to what I'd imagined. Venice looks so lovely and romantic but I suspect it would disappoint. Paris, too.
This leaves me thinking about story landscapes. Where would I like to go? Apart from Mistmantle and Narnia, of course. I don't think I'd like Never-never-land. I'd love to live in Lucy Boston's 'Green Knowe'. What about you? Places and dreams?
Sunday, 10 November 2013
Dodger
There is a leaf. I must chase. Got it!
As a stone garden dog I don't feel the cold and I don't mind if nobody feeds me. I like a good run, but I can get that by bounding around the garden when nobody's looking. Except Her. She doesn't count. The Sunshines were here this weekend (wowowowow!!) but they understand about stone dogs running around.
She was out in the garden yesterday with Lady Sunshine and she said she wanted to plant a tree. What sort of tree? I think she's planting a story tree.
That's where stories come from. You plant an idea. That's a story seed. Some of them don't come up. Some of them come up and go all thin and scrawny and die. Some of them come up quickly, but most of them take a while to grow strong, and get different branches and leaves, and finally you get a story. Usually she has to choose which branches to keep and which ones to cut off, to keep the story strong. She's growing a story tree just now and it grew really quickly, then it did something unexpected and now she has to think of which branches to keep. But she likes this story. It's got a dog in it, like me, except not a stone one.
People often ask her where her ideas come from. She doesn't like that question. Ideas don't come from anywhere, they are just there, around you, at the end of your nose, in your garden. What matters is whether your idea grows into a strong tree or not.
If you have a story tree with branches and you cut some off, they are no longer branches. They are sticks. What do we do with sticks? We chase them! Oh, wow!
As a stone garden dog I don't feel the cold and I don't mind if nobody feeds me. I like a good run, but I can get that by bounding around the garden when nobody's looking. Except Her. She doesn't count. The Sunshines were here this weekend (wowowowow!!) but they understand about stone dogs running around.
She was out in the garden yesterday with Lady Sunshine and she said she wanted to plant a tree. What sort of tree? I think she's planting a story tree.
That's where stories come from. You plant an idea. That's a story seed. Some of them don't come up. Some of them come up and go all thin and scrawny and die. Some of them come up quickly, but most of them take a while to grow strong, and get different branches and leaves, and finally you get a story. Usually she has to choose which branches to keep and which ones to cut off, to keep the story strong. She's growing a story tree just now and it grew really quickly, then it did something unexpected and now she has to think of which branches to keep. But she likes this story. It's got a dog in it, like me, except not a stone one.
People often ask her where her ideas come from. She doesn't like that question. Ideas don't come from anywhere, they are just there, around you, at the end of your nose, in your garden. What matters is whether your idea grows into a strong tree or not.
If you have a story tree with branches and you cut some off, they are no longer branches. They are sticks. What do we do with sticks? We chase them! Oh, wow!
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Eventful
An eventful couple of days. Yesterday I was in Newcastle, shopping for a winter coat. I'd got the choice down to That One or That One and was on my way back to have another look at That One when I noticed a pleasant faced woman coming the other way and we'd smiled and nodded and almost passed each other before we looked twice. Within twenty minutes the coat was bought and I was having coffee with Stephanie.
It's a long story, but more than twenty years ago when we lived in a small coastal town and I was a young mother and she was a sixth form student, Stephanie was our babysitter. She was also a lifesaver, because there weren't many people around that I could discuss books and theatre with. Most babysitters go straight home when you come back. Stephanie used to put the kettle on and we'd chat for a while, mostly about books. The kids still reckon she was a brilliant babysitter. We kept in touch. A lot of water has passed under many bridges since then, but now I'm writing books for children and Stephanie has published 'How I said Bah! to Cancer' and 'Thrive', based on her experiences with cancer, and has a novel coming out next year. Funny to think of where we started from.
Today was another family day at my sister's, and we took Mum and Dad to see the tiny church at Chillingham. It's twelfth century, rough, plain, cold and battle-scarred, but it contains the most amazing ornate tomb for one of the Percy family and his wife. Their effigies are carved from alabaster in astonishing detail on a high stone tomb adorned with figures of saints and angels, and his helm and family crest are above him. It looks like the sort of thing that should be in Westminster Abbey, not a country chapel.
And it should be, too. A local guide came in when we were there and told us the story. Sir Henry Percy had ordered his tomb and was to be interred at Westminster. Unfortunately he fell out with the king, who withdrew permission for burial in the abbey. Oops.
It's a long story, but more than twenty years ago when we lived in a small coastal town and I was a young mother and she was a sixth form student, Stephanie was our babysitter. She was also a lifesaver, because there weren't many people around that I could discuss books and theatre with. Most babysitters go straight home when you come back. Stephanie used to put the kettle on and we'd chat for a while, mostly about books. The kids still reckon she was a brilliant babysitter. We kept in touch. A lot of water has passed under many bridges since then, but now I'm writing books for children and Stephanie has published 'How I said Bah! to Cancer' and 'Thrive', based on her experiences with cancer, and has a novel coming out next year. Funny to think of where we started from.
Today was another family day at my sister's, and we took Mum and Dad to see the tiny church at Chillingham. It's twelfth century, rough, plain, cold and battle-scarred, but it contains the most amazing ornate tomb for one of the Percy family and his wife. Their effigies are carved from alabaster in astonishing detail on a high stone tomb adorned with figures of saints and angels, and his helm and family crest are above him. It looks like the sort of thing that should be in Westminster Abbey, not a country chapel.
And it should be, too. A local guide came in when we were there and told us the story. Sir Henry Percy had ordered his tomb and was to be interred at Westminster. Unfortunately he fell out with the king, who withdrew permission for burial in the abbey. Oops.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Ahem
Ahem. said Hamilton Bear, as if I had forgotten something important. Ahem.
Of course I hadn't forgotten, it had just slipped my mind for a little while. But when LYS and The Lassie were staying with us this weekend we talked a lot about weddings. We discussed colours for bridesmaids dresses, flowers, and table stationery, all of that, but we didn't discuss Hamilton's Waistcoat. There are two weddings next year, and Hamilton will need a new waistcoat for each of them. 'Ahem' in this case, meant 'Ahem, you haven't talked about what I'm going to be wearing'.
For The Sunshines' wedding he wore a very fetching deep red and gold waistcoat with gold lining, so whatever comes next has to be just as impressive. It also has to go with his red and green bow tie, which is a fixture. I did suggest snipping it off, but LYS wouldn't let me. Sunshine yellow might be nice, or midnight blue with stars on. At the wedding of Daughter and Her Chap he will be a page bear, so it's most important that he tones in with the bridesmaids. Should he have a flower in his buttonhole? I don't know much about wedding protocol for bears. I could ask my old Teddy, who was married to one of my dolls many years ago, but it wasn't a dignified occasion and I suspect he doesn't want to be reminded of it. If anybody knows about the etiquette of bears at weddings, do please let me know. That most famous of bears, Paddington, was once an usher at a wedding. He 'ushed everyone, and gave them hard stares.
Clara, who often comments on this blog, suggested that Much might like to gather his old chums around at The Old House of Stories. This sounds good to me. A Gnome Home for Grumpy Old Yorkshire Garden Furniture. I will keep you informed.
Of course I hadn't forgotten, it had just slipped my mind for a little while. But when LYS and The Lassie were staying with us this weekend we talked a lot about weddings. We discussed colours for bridesmaids dresses, flowers, and table stationery, all of that, but we didn't discuss Hamilton's Waistcoat. There are two weddings next year, and Hamilton will need a new waistcoat for each of them. 'Ahem' in this case, meant 'Ahem, you haven't talked about what I'm going to be wearing'.
For The Sunshines' wedding he wore a very fetching deep red and gold waistcoat with gold lining, so whatever comes next has to be just as impressive. It also has to go with his red and green bow tie, which is a fixture. I did suggest snipping it off, but LYS wouldn't let me. Sunshine yellow might be nice, or midnight blue with stars on. At the wedding of Daughter and Her Chap he will be a page bear, so it's most important that he tones in with the bridesmaids. Should he have a flower in his buttonhole? I don't know much about wedding protocol for bears. I could ask my old Teddy, who was married to one of my dolls many years ago, but it wasn't a dignified occasion and I suspect he doesn't want to be reminded of it. If anybody knows about the etiquette of bears at weddings, do please let me know. That most famous of bears, Paddington, was once an usher at a wedding. He 'ushed everyone, and gave them hard stares.
Clara, who often comments on this blog, suggested that Much might like to gather his old chums around at The Old House of Stories. This sounds good to me. A Gnome Home for Grumpy Old Yorkshire Garden Furniture. I will keep you informed.
Saturday, 2 November 2013
All this
Clara suggested a Hone for Gnomes in Much's garden. I must give this some thought.
Today has been grey, wet and utterly happy. Happy, because Lovely Younger Son and the Lassie are here for the weekend and I can't tell you how great it is to see them. It was their first visit to the house since we moved in and they have made all the right noises about how nice it is. We went for a potter about, had lunch and did some wedding planning. I must write down our thoughts about flowers, colours, and the things I've volunteered my sister to do before I forget. The Lassie is a very good knitter and Lady Sunshine has just learned, so between us we can knit two rings, a choir, and a white Rolls-Royce.
Somewhere between pottering and lunch I thought about the book I'm doing and realised that I've just got something wrong and will have to rewrite most of what I've done this week. That's normal, if annoying. Sometimes you have to get it wrong before you can get it right, and I decided not to think about until Monday because I'm making the most of the family time. It will be Bonfire Night on Tuesday but the big town bonfire was this evening. Being uphill, we had a brilliant view from the street. Watching fireworks is one of those things which is more fun if you do it with other people and it gave me such a glow to watch the sky light up, just from sharing it with Tony, LYS and The Lassie. True, we all got wet, but on Bonfire Night you expect to get wet or cold or both.
Hamilton Bear has been most excited. He was sitting in the window last night, watching for them to arrive. One of his favourite things when the kids were at home was watching the football with the boys on Saturday nights. To our great delight (and pleasant surprise, I have to say) Newcastle beat Chelsea 3-0 at home today, and Hamilton sat tucked in between LYS and The Lassie to watch the highlights.
All this, and footie too.
Today has been grey, wet and utterly happy. Happy, because Lovely Younger Son and the Lassie are here for the weekend and I can't tell you how great it is to see them. It was their first visit to the house since we moved in and they have made all the right noises about how nice it is. We went for a potter about, had lunch and did some wedding planning. I must write down our thoughts about flowers, colours, and the things I've volunteered my sister to do before I forget. The Lassie is a very good knitter and Lady Sunshine has just learned, so between us we can knit two rings, a choir, and a white Rolls-Royce.
Somewhere between pottering and lunch I thought about the book I'm doing and realised that I've just got something wrong and will have to rewrite most of what I've done this week. That's normal, if annoying. Sometimes you have to get it wrong before you can get it right, and I decided not to think about until Monday because I'm making the most of the family time. It will be Bonfire Night on Tuesday but the big town bonfire was this evening. Being uphill, we had a brilliant view from the street. Watching fireworks is one of those things which is more fun if you do it with other people and it gave me such a glow to watch the sky light up, just from sharing it with Tony, LYS and The Lassie. True, we all got wet, but on Bonfire Night you expect to get wet or cold or both.
Hamilton Bear has been most excited. He was sitting in the window last night, watching for them to arrive. One of his favourite things when the kids were at home was watching the football with the boys on Saturday nights. To our great delight (and pleasant surprise, I have to say) Newcastle beat Chelsea 3-0 at home today, and Hamilton sat tucked in between LYS and The Lassie to watch the highlights.
All this, and footie too.
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