Our ancient church was full on Sunday night for an Advent service that hovered between earth and heaven. Everything was candlelit, the choir carried us along, and the season of hope and expectation opened before us. I walked home past winter trees shining with white lights, lit the fire, and kindled the Advent candle. Let's not rush too fast to Christmas. Let's enjoy this short and precious season.
In Advent I am re-reading 'Learning to Dance', an inspiring book by Michael Mayne about the patterns and seasons of life and of nature. He quotes widely, which makes it a good dip-into book if I'm too busy or too tired to work my way through the layers. And I have some other reading planned, too.
LYS lent me the latest Adrian Plass, which meant that I kept laughing out loud unexpectedly and alarming Tony. I have a little light book about motherhood on the waiting list, and then I intend to apply myself to seasonal reading and My Great Adventure.
Somebody commenting on the blog a while ago recommended The Legend of Holly Claus, so I bought it and kept it until now to read. I'm looking forward to that. And then, I have a plan. My Great Adventure. All writers have half an eye on the next book and the one after that, even when they don't have a clue what it will be. I have the feeling - and maybe this applies to all writers too - that there is a book inside me that I still don't know about, and it has to be written. Something that nobody else could write. So I'm going to re-read all my favourite books, children's and adults'. Perhaps, by re-reading my favourites, I will hear the call to whatever story in me is crying out to be told.
The interesting thing is that many of my favourite books are Christmas books - The Children of Green Knowe by Lucy Boston, The Thirteen Days of Christmas by Jenny Overton, The Tailor of Gloucester by Beatrix Potter, and oh - perhaps my very favourite book in the world - The Dean's Watch by Elizabeth Goudge. So that will be my reading over Advent and well into the Christmas season too.
Oh, and Narnia. But you guessed that.
Tuesday, 3 December 2013
Sunday, 1 December 2013
Dodger
t the end of the week it's going to be wintery, I don't care, I'm a stone dog, I don't feel the cold. The leaves will blow about the garden, I can chase them. I hope it snows, I can jump up and bite snowflakes. You've no idea what I get up to when missus isn't looking. Mind, she knows more about stone animals than she should. She talks to me. That's how I know. Excuse me while I have a good scratch...
There was that day with the wren. Missus came into the sitting room and thought 'that little wren looks as if it's in the conservatory'. Then she realised that the wren really was in the conservatory, so she and the chap with the beard went round opening doors and windows to let little Jenny out. Then afterwards they went round trying to work out how Jenny Wren got in there the first place.
Later, she came to me and Oliver and said, 'Oliver, Dodger, do you know anything about the wren getting into the conservatory?' Course we didn't? How could we? We're made of stone, so how could Oliver be giggling fit to burst the buttons off his jacket? And as for me, I always look innocent. That's my trouble, I look so innocent they wonder what I've been up to. Then she saw a weed that needed pulling up and forgot about it.
And she never did find out.
There was that day with the wren. Missus came into the sitting room and thought 'that little wren looks as if it's in the conservatory'. Then she realised that the wren really was in the conservatory, so she and the chap with the beard went round opening doors and windows to let little Jenny out. Then afterwards they went round trying to work out how Jenny Wren got in there the first place.
Later, she came to me and Oliver and said, 'Oliver, Dodger, do you know anything about the wren getting into the conservatory?' Course we didn't? How could we? We're made of stone, so how could Oliver be giggling fit to burst the buttons off his jacket? And as for me, I always look innocent. That's my trouble, I look so innocent they wonder what I've been up to. Then she saw a weed that needed pulling up and forgot about it.
And she never did find out.
Friday, 29 November 2013
Much
All I can say is, they could 'ave asked me first.
It's about this 'ouse, the Old 'ouse of Stories. It belonged to the church, but when missus and 'er chap moved out that church were trying to get its act together and sort out 'ow many staff they would 'ave and where they'd put 'em. Missus 'oped they'd keep the old 'ouse of Stories, 'er being so fond of it, but it's up for sale now. It 'as to be done, and it's nowt to do with 'er now anyway, but, like I say, 'er were fond of it, specially the garden with 'er gooseberry bushes and apple trees and that, and them ducks.
Now, 'er only lived 'ere for six year, but me, I've been 'ere so long I've got moss growing over me feet. I should 'ave been asked. And I've just set up me Old Gnome 'ome, too, for all the old gnome gadgees and geezers to sit around smoking pipes and talking about how much better it were in the old days. Well, we're staying. No matter 'oo comes 'ere, we were 'ere first and we're made of stone, so what they going to do about it?
Eeh, it's a grand 'ouse, is this. Nice big rooms, and you should see that attic. There's a little window on the attic stair with views across the valley, 'er used to like to sit there. Quiet street, but only ten minutes walk from wherever 'er needed to be. Good neighbours and all. And she loved our river. So now she's 'oping that some little family moves in and loves it as much as she did. Kids to play in our garden. So if you're thinking of a nice family house int Calder Valley, it's in Mytholmroyd.
It's about this 'ouse, the Old 'ouse of Stories. It belonged to the church, but when missus and 'er chap moved out that church were trying to get its act together and sort out 'ow many staff they would 'ave and where they'd put 'em. Missus 'oped they'd keep the old 'ouse of Stories, 'er being so fond of it, but it's up for sale now. It 'as to be done, and it's nowt to do with 'er now anyway, but, like I say, 'er were fond of it, specially the garden with 'er gooseberry bushes and apple trees and that, and them ducks.
Now, 'er only lived 'ere for six year, but me, I've been 'ere so long I've got moss growing over me feet. I should 'ave been asked. And I've just set up me Old Gnome 'ome, too, for all the old gnome gadgees and geezers to sit around smoking pipes and talking about how much better it were in the old days. Well, we're staying. No matter 'oo comes 'ere, we were 'ere first and we're made of stone, so what they going to do about it?
Eeh, it's a grand 'ouse, is this. Nice big rooms, and you should see that attic. There's a little window on the attic stair with views across the valley, 'er used to like to sit there. Quiet street, but only ten minutes walk from wherever 'er needed to be. Good neighbours and all. And she loved our river. So now she's 'oping that some little family moves in and loves it as much as she did. Kids to play in our garden. So if you're thinking of a nice family house int Calder Valley, it's in Mytholmroyd.
Wednesday, 27 November 2013
Durham
I can't begin to describe Durham Cathedral. Think of an Oxford College or any cathedral with towers and imagine it as bigger, more grand, more perfectly proportioned, more intricately decorated, rising up over a river. Imagine pushing open the massive wooden door and finding a great wide, high space held up by massive round stone columns and resounding with prayer. Everywhere there are rows of arches in perfect geometric patterns. Sunlight falls through stained glass. Candles glow. The east window is glorious above the Chapel of the Nine Altars. And you still haven't seen it.
When I was a child we went to Durham a lot. I took it for granted, as you do. Over the years, I woke up to how beautiful it is. Many years ago, we'd had a family day there seeing the town and cathedral in all their Christmas glory, and Tony had taken the children back to the car while I finished the shopping and walked down to meet them. There was snow on the ground, and it fell again as I was walking down through the town in the dark at about half past four.
Through the narrow lane with its pretty stone terraces goes Mrs Woman with her shopping, and on down to the cobblestones. Prebend's Bridge is ahead of her. The snow falls on the trees at the riverside and around the lamppost with its soft glow. Mrs Woman gasps, and thinks that round the next bend she will meet a faun with an umbrella.
We were in Durham again today with Mum and Dad, and what a day. In the clear skies, the Cathedral looked at her best and Mum remembered her first visit there when she was tiny. We walked along the river from Prebend's Bridge and watched the rowing teams training. As we left, the Christmas lights were coming in and the skies above Durham rang with glory.
When I was a child we went to Durham a lot. I took it for granted, as you do. Over the years, I woke up to how beautiful it is. Many years ago, we'd had a family day there seeing the town and cathedral in all their Christmas glory, and Tony had taken the children back to the car while I finished the shopping and walked down to meet them. There was snow on the ground, and it fell again as I was walking down through the town in the dark at about half past four.
Through the narrow lane with its pretty stone terraces goes Mrs Woman with her shopping, and on down to the cobblestones. Prebend's Bridge is ahead of her. The snow falls on the trees at the riverside and around the lamppost with its soft glow. Mrs Woman gasps, and thinks that round the next bend she will meet a faun with an umbrella.
We were in Durham again today with Mum and Dad, and what a day. In the clear skies, the Cathedral looked at her best and Mum remembered her first visit there when she was tiny. We walked along the river from Prebend's Bridge and watched the rowing teams training. As we left, the Christmas lights were coming in and the skies above Durham rang with glory.
Monday, 25 November 2013
Gleaner and Crispin
Gleaner
If she must tell stories, I wish she'd get her facts right. I'm not saying that she tells lies, exactly, but she's said two things recently that aren't true. Firstly, Newcastle won that football match two-nil, not three-nil as she told you. And she wrote something about turning left out of Kings Cross station to go to all those places around Euston. If she turned left out of Kings Cross she'd be going the other way, wouldn't she? She'd no doubt end up in some grim little corner of north London, and serve her right.
Either careless, forgetful, or just plain deceitful. My lady was none of those things. And she's common. I don't know who that king was or what he was so cross about, but I'm sure it's not the sort of area for a refined squirrel like my Lady Aspen.
Crispin
Frost again this morning. Urchin and I went to check Anemone Wood and make sure all the animals were snug for the winter. We can always provide a few more blankets and feathers for nests.
It's still another whole moon before the Winter Festival and we don't expect snow yet, but Oakleaf has the sledge ready. Everyone is busy making little presents and surprises for the Festival and hiding them away. Every time I go to say goodnight to the little ones I hear them whisk away under their beds, giggling, to hide something. Sepia is composing something new - you hear her twanging a few strings on the harp then singing it over to herself. And the kitchens! I was running down the wall outside the kitchen window yesterday and that waft of hot spices, raisins and oranges stopped me in my tracks.
Cedar's gone to discuss Threadings with Lady Thripple. Gleaner is muttering to herself about something, but I think she's all right. It's quiet now. If you look out you can see lights in the trees where animals live. Sensible animals are curling up in their nests, but you and I are still up. Not very sensible animals, are we? Would you care to join me for a cordial? Juniper and Hope will have the fire lit in the turret by now. Let's drink hot spiced blackcurrant juice and look down at the lights on Mistmantle.
If she must tell stories, I wish she'd get her facts right. I'm not saying that she tells lies, exactly, but she's said two things recently that aren't true. Firstly, Newcastle won that football match two-nil, not three-nil as she told you. And she wrote something about turning left out of Kings Cross station to go to all those places around Euston. If she turned left out of Kings Cross she'd be going the other way, wouldn't she? She'd no doubt end up in some grim little corner of north London, and serve her right.
Either careless, forgetful, or just plain deceitful. My lady was none of those things. And she's common. I don't know who that king was or what he was so cross about, but I'm sure it's not the sort of area for a refined squirrel like my Lady Aspen.
Crispin
Frost again this morning. Urchin and I went to check Anemone Wood and make sure all the animals were snug for the winter. We can always provide a few more blankets and feathers for nests.
It's still another whole moon before the Winter Festival and we don't expect snow yet, but Oakleaf has the sledge ready. Everyone is busy making little presents and surprises for the Festival and hiding them away. Every time I go to say goodnight to the little ones I hear them whisk away under their beds, giggling, to hide something. Sepia is composing something new - you hear her twanging a few strings on the harp then singing it over to herself. And the kitchens! I was running down the wall outside the kitchen window yesterday and that waft of hot spices, raisins and oranges stopped me in my tracks.
Cedar's gone to discuss Threadings with Lady Thripple. Gleaner is muttering to herself about something, but I think she's all right. It's quiet now. If you look out you can see lights in the trees where animals live. Sensible animals are curling up in their nests, but you and I are still up. Not very sensible animals, are we? Would you care to join me for a cordial? Juniper and Hope will have the fire lit in the turret by now. Let's drink hot spiced blackcurrant juice and look down at the lights on Mistmantle.
Friday, 22 November 2013
They say you remember
They say you remember where you were when President Kennedy was shot. I was a child sitting on the floor watching the news on a small black and white television. I remember thinking it was strange that there was a TV camera there, because nobody knew what was going to happen. What I was watching, of course, was that little clip of home movie that has since been seen around the world.
It was around that time that I had a simply lovely young school teacher. We called her Miss Anderson but her real name was something Dutch. At the end of the year she left to get married and I think she was going back to Holland. At the end of every day, for storytime, she read to us from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I was spellbound. On those autumn afternoons she opened the wardrobe door to us all and I have been a citizen of Narnia every since. So are my children, and I've just bought a copy of Prince Caspian for the Golden Child's big brother.
On the day that President Kennedy died that great soul, C S Lewis, passed to heaven. As he died, maybe I was listening to, or thinking of, Narnia. I still do.
It was around that time that I had a simply lovely young school teacher. We called her Miss Anderson but her real name was something Dutch. At the end of the year she left to get married and I think she was going back to Holland. At the end of every day, for storytime, she read to us from The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I was spellbound. On those autumn afternoons she opened the wardrobe door to us all and I have been a citizen of Narnia every since. So are my children, and I've just bought a copy of Prince Caspian for the Golden Child's big brother.
On the day that President Kennedy died that great soul, C S Lewis, passed to heaven. As he died, maybe I was listening to, or thinking of, Narnia. I still do.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
freedom
The post about Judith Kerr has sparked a conversation here. You've all made me think.
I've grown up with freedom, and I expect most of you have too. People have different ideas about freedom. There are those who complain because they're not free to get drunk in public places, use obscene language in any and every situation, or drive at fifty in a thirty zone. There is a much longer list, but you know what I mean. Perhaps when they've got over themselves they'll try to understand the difference between liberty and licence. Soldiers didn't die so that you could throw up in a bus stop.
I thank God for freedom, not often enough. Here we are in the House of Stories, free to read what we like and discuss what we like. I can go out without a curfew. I can go to church without being blacklisted. I can say what I think about the government without being arrested. (By the way, this is the UK in 2013. If they arrested everyone who has a go at the government they'd have to make prisons out of Wembley Stadium and the Royal Albert Hall.)
Shortly after Judith Kerr's family escaped from Germany, her father's books were publicly burned. There was a price on his head 'dead or alive'. He was most offended because he said it wasn't enough. You may like to read the books of Corrie ten Boom - she and her sister smuggled Dutch Jews out of Holland during the war, and were arrested. She, too, was a shining woman.
So we need to know our past. As Jonny said, those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it. We need to know how dearly our freedom was bought and how precious it is. As the Scots said in the Declaration of Arbroath (early 14th C)
'It is in truth not for glory nor riches nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom, for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself'.
I've grown up with freedom, and I expect most of you have too. People have different ideas about freedom. There are those who complain because they're not free to get drunk in public places, use obscene language in any and every situation, or drive at fifty in a thirty zone. There is a much longer list, but you know what I mean. Perhaps when they've got over themselves they'll try to understand the difference between liberty and licence. Soldiers didn't die so that you could throw up in a bus stop.
I thank God for freedom, not often enough. Here we are in the House of Stories, free to read what we like and discuss what we like. I can go out without a curfew. I can go to church without being blacklisted. I can say what I think about the government without being arrested. (By the way, this is the UK in 2013. If they arrested everyone who has a go at the government they'd have to make prisons out of Wembley Stadium and the Royal Albert Hall.)
Shortly after Judith Kerr's family escaped from Germany, her father's books were publicly burned. There was a price on his head 'dead or alive'. He was most offended because he said it wasn't enough. You may like to read the books of Corrie ten Boom - she and her sister smuggled Dutch Jews out of Holland during the war, and were arrested. She, too, was a shining woman.
So we need to know our past. As Jonny said, those who forget their past are doomed to repeat it. We need to know how dearly our freedom was bought and how precious it is. As the Scots said in the Declaration of Arbroath (early 14th C)
'It is in truth not for glory nor riches nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom, for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself'.
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