So That Was February

Hello, thank you for dropping in here, you are very welcome, as ever.  I haven't been here for more than a month, for which I am sorry, but really, I didn't think I had anything interesting to share with you; I certainly haven't been anywhere interesting.  However, this week I suddenly have lots of things I want to write about so I thought I should start with February and when I looked back over the month it seems that some things did happen.

Birthday

I celebrated my birthday at home with the Best Beloved and a bit of a tear in my eye because the day marked a whole year since the last time I saw my younger daughter. The Best Beloved did his best to make sure that I had the best possible lockdown birthday: he gave me smoked salmon with a poached egg on toasted homemade bread for breakfast, we had croissants for elevenses and he went to Marks & Spencer's food hall to buy a treat for dinner. I made myself a birthday cake because he's really not up to that. During the afternoon we lit the fire and watched a film together, a rare occurrence because we don't like the same kind of films, but I was allowed to choose (gasp!) so we watched The Dig, a film about the discovery of the Anglo-Saxon treasure at Sutton Hoo. (Some of you may have read Simon Stone's novel on which the film is based, but I haven't.) We both enjoyed it, him more than he expected to. In the evening I really enjoyed a video meeting with my sisters and parents, during which I wore a tiara and drank champagne - after all, it was my birthday!  The following day was a babysitting day and I was able to celebrate all over again with The Teacher, Tom Kitten and Cottontail and even though I had to cook the dinner myself this time, it was super duper to be with them.  They had even made me a cake, which was a big deal because The Teacher doesn't enjoy baking and she had borrowed the equipment from a friend, which of course made it all the more special.  She's a good girl.

Valentine's Day

The Best Beloved really isn't interested in Valentine's Day so I gave up hoping and bothering several years ago.  However, I did receive a card - from somebody else.  The Mental Health Collective organises a card exchange several times a year and this is the third time I have participated - I was given a name and address and somebody different was given mine.  We are asked to send a card or letter with encouraging words to our recipient, that's all, and the theme this time was Love, goodwill rather than romance.  It's not terribly onerous but I really believe that it can make a big difference to the recipient.  I received my card a couple of days early, before the posting date, and I was bowled over because the sender had obviously spent some time and effort making it, even though I am a complete stranger to her.  I wanted to pass on that kindness in a similar way so I set aside the card I had bought and instead spent an afternoon making a card to send.  Here is the card I received.  It's still on my mantelpiece.

Shrove Tuesday

Well, I didn't go to be shriven of my sins but I did eat pancakes.  I had decided that this year's pancakes would be Scotch rather than traditional or American so I made up the batter before we ate dinner, ready to cook afterwards.  The Best Beloved then decided that he wanted to do the cooking - I don't know why, this task always falls to me and I'm not sure that he has ever cooked a pancake of any variety before, but he was quite sure.  He went into the kitchen, instructed me that I was to stay outside and closed the door firmly.  Well, obviously I couldn't help myself and I quietly crept in and snaffled this photo without him realising.  I couldn't stop laughing - it's the smallest pancake in the world!  He told me that it wasn't his fault, that my batter was too thick (how very dare he!) and would not accept any advice or information about the niceties of pancake batter.

I was shoved sent out of the kitchen, the door was firmly closed again and a little while later he presented me with these.  I was very polite and appreciative (and stifling laughter).

Vaccinations

My 'phone rang one afternoon and even though the call was from an unknown number, I answered it, which is unusual.  I am very glad I did because the call was from my GP surgery, offering me a covid vaccination two days later.  I was very surprised, accepted the invitation and asked if the Best Beloved could also be vaccinated at the same time as we fall into the same category.  We were given consecutive appointments and two days later, the deed was done.  I was very impressed with the whole set-up, we were given appointments in May for the second dose and neither of us suffered any side effects.  The Best Beloved was relieved because it meant that by the time he would return to the classroom, he would be almost three weeks post-vaccination, long enough for it to provide him with some protection.

Reading

I finished reading A Suitable Boy on 26th February, so it took just over seven weeks.  I smile when I think about this book and I miss it already because I enjoyed it very much, all 1,474 pages of it.  James Wood reviewed it in The Guardian as "vast and amiably peopled" and that's one of the things I liked about it, almost all the characters are likeable.  I also found it very visual - the clothes, jewellery and gardens are vividly described and painted beautiful pictures in my head.   This book isn't difficult to read, it's all storytelling and there's no need to read between the lines, it's just long, but hey, we're in lockdown, I had little else to do but read, and I am glad to have read this.

Knitting 

I am still slowly working on Tom Kitten's jumper but at the beginning of February I discovered that my cousin, a teacher, has to spend all day at work with the windows and doors open (to reduce the risk of covid infection) and that by the time she gets home she is frozen so I knitted her a pair of woollen socks to keep her feet warm.  She has very dainty feet so they didn't take as long as usual and I used some lovely Drops Fabel in Salt and Pepper (shade 905).  I was very pleased with them and so was she, it is lovely to be able to make people happy.

Now here we are, halfway through March and less than a week away from astronomical Spring. The Best Beloved returned to work when the schools reopened to all pupils a week ago and on the Sunday evening he had a shave, ironed a shirt, polished his shoes and put his face shield, mask and hand sanitiser into his briefcase. The following morning I wondered aloud if I should take a photograph of him on the doorstep, the way we used to do when our children returned to school on the first day of the new school year, because that's how I felt. I am now allowed to meet one friend in a public place for a chat so that's what I am planning to do on Thursday and I can't bloomin' wait. The world is still turning. 

Take care, stay safe and see you soon.

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

Imbolc, Brigid-tide and Candlemas

Hello, thank you for dropping in.  Firstly, I'm sorry that the font changes halfway through this post, I know that it's annoying but I have tried and tried but I can't do anything about it.

Everything here feels very wet.  We have had a lot of rain over the last couple of weeks - the Best Beloved says that he has never seen so much rain - but we have also had sunshine and snow.  Fortunately we live far enough away from rivers that we have not been flooded but our weekly drive to The Teacher's house takes us past lakes where fields should be and rivers which have burst their banks.  (I should explain that the lockdown rules allow us to form a childcare bubble with her family so we go to her house when she and her husband are both working and need essential childcare, usually once or twice a week.)   We are glad to have had snow, it feels like a real winter.

In ancient times the Celts celebrated Imbolc on 1st February.  Halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, with longer, lighter days and the birth of the first lambs, they regarded it as the first day of spring and honoured the goddess Bride.  When the Christian church took over the pagan celebrations it gave the day to St Brigid of Kildare and her story became entwined with that of Bride.  In the sixth century the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I declared that Candlemas should be celebrated in churches on 2nd February, forty days after Christmas Day, which meant that celebrations began on the evening of 1st February.

In the church calendar this date became The Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary and remembered the day when the infant Jesus' parents took him to the temple so that Mary could receive the ritual of purification and the baby could be presented to God.  Although I have read that this is a Jewish tradition I'm sure that the purification is also a Christian tradition as a few weeks after my elder daughter was born my friend's mother, who was born in Yorkshire in the 1930s, was surprised to hear that I had been out before I had been "churched", which should have been when the baby was six weeks old.   The old Churching of Women service has been replaced in the Church of England by a service of Thanksgiving for the Gift of a Child and quite right too as far as I'm concerned, I find the notion that a woman needs to be purified after giving birth to be repugnantly misogynistic.  After the Reformation, the Protestant church shifted the focus of the day from Mary to Jesus and it became the day to celebrate The Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple.  Anyway, to return to this story, an old man called Simeon recognised Jesus as the son of God and declared him to be "a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of Your people Israel.”  From this text Jesus is described as the Light of the World and so it became the day on which people would bring their candles to church to be blessed alongside the candles which the church would use over the forthcoming year.  So, as far as the Church is concerned, it's all about light and candles but the people still celebrated in their homes and had a bit of a party, placing lighted candles in their homes and giving candles as gifts on this day.

More than any other year, I wanted to celebrate Candlemas this year and I'm not really sure why but as I read more about it I felt the attraction of lighting candles to dispel the metaphorical darkness of living in a global pandemic, using them as a symbol of hope now that the vaccination programme really is underway in this country.  Reading about the ancient practices, I really understood the longing for spring - please don't misunderstand me, I'm an astronomical kind of gal and I know that spring will come with the equinox in March, but half the winter is behind us now and I am ready to look ahead towards the spring.  My celebration would have to be something I could do by myself and looking around the internet I found a Forest Church video entitled "An Outdoor Celebration for Brigid-tide and Candlemas".  It looked just right for me.

The introductory video told me that I would need a bonfire to burn my Christmas tree, a candle in a lantern or jam jar and a wassail -  a warm, mulled drink of beer, cider or apple juice.  Well, this might have put me off because for the first time EVER, the Best Beloved chopped up our Christmas tree and put it out with the recycling weeks ago and he informed me last weekend that both our garden incinerator and fire basket disintegrated at the end of last summer.  Harrumph!  Secondly, I did not have any of said beverages to mull.  However, I decided that as I was a Girl Guide in my youth, I know how to be resourceful.  I found a small foil tray in the kitchen cupboard and put some tealights in it to make a substitute bonfire and I poured the last of my homemade blackberry vodka into a jug with a cinnamon stick and heated it up in the microwave.  I was ready.

I sat in the garden by myself and played the video.  I lit my tealights and fed my little fire with dried stems of lavender pulled from the bush.  At this point I realised that I shouldn't have used so many tealights because with such a lot of melted wax, the fire blazed and grew and I almost burned down the wooden table.  Almost.  I sang loudly and merrily.  I lit my candle and in the absence of fruit trees or bushes, I drank my blackberry vodka and wassailed the lavender.  I sat quietly and looked around at the new, living green shoots.  It began to rain but I stayed outside until the film, and my celebration, was over.  I came indoors feeling more connected to nature, to the rhythm of the seasons and to God.  I also felt more hopeful and more myself.  I think my equilibrium has been restored.

While reading about Imbolc in preparation for writing this post I discovered that the bramble is sacred to St Brigid and that its leaves and fruits are used to attract prosperity and healing, so my blackberry vodka wasn't out of place, after all.  I shall have to make some more this year because I would like to celebrate Brigid-tide and Candlemas next year in a similar fashion...but with other people and a bit of a party.  

Stay safe and take care.

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

So That Was January

Hello, I hope you and yours are all safe and well.  The rates of infection are running so high that I fear you may not be.  These are scary times.

I am not coping as well with this lockdown as I did last year.  Last March the Best Beloved and I found a good routine within a few days but this time it's harder, largely because we can't use the garden.  It's simply too cold and if it's not too cold, it's too wet.  He has been furloughed so we are both at home together, indoors, and I have flumped about in a listless fashion, drifting from one thing to the next in an unstructured way which really doesn't suit me.  January is a month in which we usually celebrate several family birthdays and the fact that we can't get together at the moment has been hard to bear.  This unhappiness was compounded by the fact that I have spent a large part of the month trawling through eighty years of family photographs and remembering wonderful family holidays and parties, which really rammed the point home, although I continue to find something positive in every day which really is saving my sanity.  So, here is most of what I have been doing this month.

Lighting up

January really is a month for being cosy indoors so every evening I light up the candles and lanterns on the mantelpiece and enjoy the glow.  All over social media people seem to be looking for spring but it's not spring, it's winter, and I learned a few years ago that if I accept that fact and embrace it I'm going to feel much better about it.  In a few weeks' time I shall be looking for daffodils on the mantelpiece but right now, candles are what I want.

Reading 

At the top of my stairs, in the small space we rather grandiosely call "the landing", there is a bookcase and A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth has been glaring at me in a challenging manner from the second shelf for about fifteen years.  Every time I climbed the stairs it reminded me that it was waiting for me.  This book is 1,474 pages long which is why it has been on the To Be Read shelf for so long, I'm not a fast reader and I simply couldn't face it.  When I decided to read longer books in 2019 I planned to build up to this one towards the end of that year but my resolve crumbled when I got there.  However, at the beginning of January I decided that I felt ready to tackle it and if it's the only book I read this year, that will be fine.  I started reading it on 2nd January and I am enjoying it very much.  I'm more than halfway through and hoping to finish by the end of half term on 21st February but if I don't, I shall just carry on enjoying it until I reach the end.  

Knitting

I am knitting a jumper for Tom Kitten.  It won't fit him until next winter so I'm not working to a deadline and I'm really enjoying the relaxed pace.  It's ages since I've knitted anything like this and I'm not the best knitter in the world but the yarn is a merino and cotton blend which is a dream to knit with (I bought it in a sale last summer).  I have remembered that I like knitting cables.

Making

I have made some gift tags out of the Christmas cards.  It's a very simple but very satisfying thing to do.  When I was young my sisters and I used to sit around the dining room table together doing this, with pinking shears if my memory serves me right, as my mother crossed the senders off her own Christmas card list and this is the first time I have done it for many years.  With something good on the radio to keep me company I spent a very happy afternoon.  I am also enjoying the eco-virtuous glow of upcycling.  

Baking

I very rarely bake these days but the baking tins came out twice this month.  Firstly, I decided that it was time to introduce my Salopian grandchildren to their county dish, fidget pie.  It went down very well and Tom Kitten was delighted to see that I had adorned the pie with their initials.  Obviously, he had to have a slice with the T.  Cottontail wolfed hers down in about five seconds flat and I shall definitely make it for them again.  The second bake was a special cake, a streusal layer cake, my father's favourite baked in his honour because on Sunday we were

Celebrating Dad's 80th Birthday

Lockdown birthdays are difficult but Dad assured me that he had a lovely day.  During the afternoon thirty-four of us gathered on Zoom to celebrate with him and my mother - all of his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews and associated in-laws as well as my aunt and uncle.  Some of us had baked birthday cakes and made special desserts, there was fizz and one of his grandsons had prepared a quiz.  I felt very emotional afterwards because we should all have been together physically rather than digitally and I may have had a little cry.  I also ate cake, and I have eaten cake again today.  It is a delicious cake.

So that was January.  Yesterday morning I woke up feeling strangely energetic and I put away my crib and Christmas decorations.  Today is Candlemas, the midpoint between the winter solstice and the spring equinox and I have a little plan to mark the day.  

Take care and stay safe.

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

Epiphany Traditions

 Hello, thank you for dropping in.  Well, it's been a bit of a week, hasn't it?  On Sunday 3rd January I watched the Prime Minister on television telling us all that the primary schools would definitely be reopening the following day, and secondary schools would be open to all pupils a fortnight later, so that evening the Best Beloved ironed a shirt, got his "uniform" ready and set the alarm for 6.30am in case his services would be required.   The following evening, after many pupils and staff had spent a day in school, sharing whatever they had caught from the people they mixed with during the holiday, I watched Boris on television as he told us all that we were going into lockdown again and that schools would only be open for vulnerable children and the children of keyworkers.  Here we go again.  Later that evening the Best Beloved suggested that we leave the Christmas tree up until Candlemas on 2nd February!  I was very surprised as I've been light-heartedly proposing this for the last eight years or so, ever since I discovered that it was traditionally proper, and he's always dismissed the idea out of hand.  We usually take the tree down on 5th January but this year, we didn't.  I was delighted - and at a bit of a loose end, locked down and with little else to do, but we spent the day talking things through and trying to formulate a plan to help us through the coming weeks.

Wednesday was 6th January, Epiphany, the day to celebrate the visit of the magi to the holy family, and I duly placed my little wooden figures in the crib and we chalked the door.

Do you know about chalking the door?  I didn't until three or four years ago.  I did it for the first time last year and I felt that it placed a satisfying full stop at the end of Christmas.  

The letters CMB have two meanings: they are the traditional initials of the magi, Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar, and they also abbreviate the Latin phrase Christus mansionem benedicat: “May Christ bless the house.” The “+” signs represent the cross, and the “20” at the beginning and the “21” at the end mark this year.  The format is the same every year and once I had written the figures, I said a short prayer asking Christ to bless those who live in or visit our home throughout the coming year.  In some churches, sticks of chalk are blessed during the service on the Sunday before Epiphany and given to the congregation to take home and use to chalk their doors but I've never been to a church which does that and I thought that God wouldn't mind if I used unblessed chalk.  According to a report in The Telegraph there has been a rise in the practice this year and I wonder if that's because we feel more in need of blessings during the pandemic?

During the afternoon I made a willow star using a kit I bought online just before Christmas.  It felt appropriate for Epiphany.  All I needed to supply was a pair of scissors and a bit of sticky tape and I spent a very enjoyable hour or so at the kitchen table.  Once I'm ready to take it down it can be easily dismantled and packed away ready for next year.

On Saturday we decided that the Christmas tree really couldn't stay up until Candlemas because it had become very dry and with an open fire in the room, it was a fire hazard.  I took a fond photo.  One of my favourite things to do at Christmas is to sit in this room in the evening with a glass of wine and watch something good on the television in the glow provided by fairy lights, firelight and candlelight.

On Sunday I slipped out of bed while the Best Beloved was sleeping and began to take off the decorations and pack them away.  Surprisingly, the task didn't make me feel as sad as it usually does.  I had been very half-hearted about this tree from the outset, the Best Beloved had bought it by himself, ignoring my request and buying a tree which was bigger than I wanted, and I resented the tree a little for its size.  More than that, I hadn't placed The Mathematician's own, special decorations on the tree because she was unable to come home for Christmas and I couldn't bear to have them up without her being here, although then I missed those decorations and the tree felt incomplete without them.  I  mean, how can it really have been Christmas without the Christmas Dragonfly she made when she was a Brownie, or the silver snowflake she made in a D&T class at school???

Things feel a little strange today.  The front room feels bleaker without the Christmas tree, although we have kept out all our tealight holders and lanterns so there is still plenty of Christmas cheer, and the willow star is shining.  Perhaps some wise men will turn up?  I think our Prime Minister could do with their help.

I wish you all a happy and hopeful new year.

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

This Year's Books - 2020

Hello.  Here we are at the end of 2020.  These days at the end of the year are usually deliciously languid, relished after the hustle and bustle of Christmas and its preparations.  This year, however, I have found them too long, probably because there was so little hustle and bustle preceding them and because I haven't seen another human being apart from the Best Beloved since Christmas Day.  I haven't been unhappy, we have had two beautiful snowfalls this week and I have eaten mince pies and drunk wine, knitted and watched films, but I am ready to move on now and leave this horrible year behind.

It's time to show you the books I have read this year.  I'm not a fast reader so I was amazed that I read four books in January (although let's face it, the weather was horrible so I didn't really go out anywhere) and thought that I would have no problem hitting my target of twenty books by the end of November.  Four!!  The first was a Christmas gift, Grandmothers by Salley Vickers.  Nothing much happens in this book but it perfectly encapsulates how I feel about being a grandmother.  I read a disparaging review of it in The Guardian and it was obvious to me that the critic wasn't a grandmother because she just didn't understand the relationships in the book.  I enjoyed it, and I also enjoyed the physical presence of the book: it's a comfortable size in the hand, beautifully bound and has a ribbon bookmark.  What more could I want?

Having finished Grandmothers in four days, I was prompted to reread Miss Garnet's Angel by the same author.  I first read this novel when it was published in paperback in 2002 and considered it one of my favourite books.  Eighteen years later I still loved it and perhaps understood and appreciated it even more with the benefit of those eighteen years of life experience.  It's certainly staying in the house.

My next book was Burial Rites by Hannah Kent which fictionalizes the true story of the last woman to be executed in Iceland, in 1829.  I've been to Iceland and its landscape, architecture and way of life are intrinsic to the story.  I loved it and tried to pass it on to The Teacher but she pointed out to me that she had already read it and lent it to me so it was, in fact, her own book! 

January's final book was Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte.  I've read this before too, but that was more than thirty years ago and I couldn't remember it.  It's a wonderful novel, if you are put off by the idea of reading "the classics" I recommend this as the style is easy to read and it's only 180 pages long.  I polished it off in three days and was left outraged and saddened by the way young governesses were treated by their employers in the nineteenth century.  

So, I thought I should read Miss Bronte's other novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.  To be quite honest, it's not as good as many people proclaim it to be and I spent weeks mired in it.  I think my biggest problem with it was that I didn't sympathise with the narrator, although there's also the fact that while The Tenant is supposed to be an independent woman, she's ultimately reliant on her family's financial and practical support and she makes an annoying marriage choice.  I'm trying not to spoil it for you in case you want to read it yourself but really, don't bother, read Jane Eyre instead.  This paperback book has now fallen apart, having been used for serious study twice and reading "enjoyment" twice more so out it will go.

After trudging through that one I moved on to The Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge. I picked this up from a free stall because I read The Herb of Grace by the same author three years ago and enjoyed it very much. This one started off well but I was a bit disappointed by the end. I thought it was a bit old-fashioned, but that doesn't usually put me off a book, I like old-fashioned, so it must have been something more. However, I'm glad I read it and it can leave now.

That one took me up to the middle of April and I read two more books that month - we were in lockdown and I still couldn't go out anywhere.  The first was The Music Shop by Rachel Joyce.  This is the second of her books which I have read and enjoyed.  It is about music but it's really about people and relationships and community, subjects in which I am very interested, and it's very well-written.

Next came Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.  I really shouldn't have read this but it was so good that I couldn't help myself.  In the opening chapter, a virulent new strain of influenza appears and eventually wipes out 99% of the world's population.  Do you see why I shouldn't have read it?  It's a marvellous novel about memory, loss and the importance of art and if we weren't in the middle of a global pandemic I would be urging you all to read it but it's a bit too close to the bone for these times.

In May I read Holy Fools by Joanne Harris.  I have read a few of her books and enjoyed them and this one didn't disappoint.  However, after I finished it I decided that I needed to give myself a good talking to.  There's always something dark in her novels and, on top of Station Eleven, it really didn't do my mood any good.  There was enough darkness in the real world without escaping to it in books so I decided that my next book shouldn't be one of the serious novels lining my To Be Read shelf but instead it should be something light and comforting.  So when Martin Jarvis began reading Just William by Richmal Crompton every morning on Radio 4 I reached my dusty paperback down from the shelves which hold the books I have had since I was a child and, for the first time in more than forty years, opened the cover.  It was perfect.  Actually, Martin Jarvis was perfect, even the Best Beloved enjoyed listening with me and he actually allowed me to read chunks of my book aloud to him!  Amusing, light and comforting, it was just what I needed.

In June I continued in the same vein and read What Katy Did by Susan M. Coolidge.  Again, it is more than forty years since I read this, and it provided a good escape from reality.  This cheap copy was not mine, it must have come into the house for one of my daughters, and when I found the first spelling mistake I knew that it would have to go as soon as I finished it.  I cannot abide spelling mistakes.

I had really slowed up by this point.  I tried several grown-up novels and cast them aside before I had a brainwave and fished out The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce.  I know that I'm a bit late to the party with this one but honestly, please read it if you haven't.  Again, it's about the healing powers of relationships and community and it's beautifully written.  Like The Music Shop, this one was passed on to me by my mother so Ma, if you're reading, please would you like to lend me The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy, the companion novel?

I completed Harold's journey on 6th July and I didn't pick up a book for another two months.  My brain just wouldn't settle down and let me become absorbed in a novel.  However, in the middle of September we went away to the seaside for a long weekend and I wanted to take a book with me, just in case.  I scanned the shelf and spotted Coastliners by Joanne Harris, another novel which has been sitting waiting for more years than I care to remember, and I thought that as I would be by the coast, this book might be suitable as I do find that reading a book in some context enhances my enjoyment.  It was indeed suitable.  Ms Harris always crafts a fine story and I enjoyed it very much, sitting on the beach in the sunshine, until the denouement, which I thought was rushed and so lacked credibility.  However, I am glad that I read it.

Next came Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield, another of my childhood books, this one dating from the 1970s when a Puffin paperback cost 25p.  I love this story SO much, before I wanted to be Jo March I wanted to be Pauline Fossil.  Reading this book again was easy, calming, comforting and really quite delightful and I didn't choose anything else for a while afterwards, not because I didn't want to read but because I wanted to keep living in this one.

Book number fifteen was a properly grown-up book, The Other Side by Mary Gordon.  I didn't like it.  I stuck with it because I hoped that it would get better and because I always finish a book once I start it but it didn't get better and with one exception, the characters didn't become more likeable.  This book was passed on to me and I shall now be passing it out of the door.

Reading My Dream of You by Nuala O'Faolain brought me to the end of November.  This was passed on to me by my bookish aunt who was interested in our family's Irish heritage and it's about a middle-aged woman who returns to Ireland after living in London for all of her adult life to research a nineteenth century mystery.  I enjoyed it and I am glad that I read it.  

That brought me almost to the end of November.  There are only sixteen books here so I missed my target of twenty but I'm not really disappointed because I have read sixteen books, which is fourteen more than I read in 2017, and there was a point this year when I thought that I may only read eleven, and let's not forget that I slogged through The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and The Other Side, for which I deserve some sort of endurance award.

At the beginning of December I pulled out these books to dip into through the month.  Nigel Slater's The Christmas Chronicles was new last year and Jostein Gaarder's The Christmas Mystery  was new the year before.  Each of them is a bit like an Advent calender, with a short chapter to read each day.  They are relatively new friends but I intend them to become old friends.  New for this year was Yuletide, which is great if you are at all interested in British customs, traditions and folklore, and Dorothy Wordsworth's Christmas Birthday, which is a poem written by Carol Ann Duffy and beautifully illustrated by Tom Duxbury.  I like to read my battered old copy of The Tailor of Gloucester every Christmas as that is when it is set, and you already know that I like to read a book in context if it's possible.  Growing up I found this story quite creepy, all those mice scurrying about behind the skirting boards and being trapped under teacups by Simpkin, ready for his dinner, but I like it much more now and find it heartwarming. Beatrix Potter claimed that this was her favourite of the Tales.

Now, all this dipping was fine and festive BUT I found myself wanting to read something longer, a proper story.  I wasn't sure quite what because I didn't want anything completely immersive when there were Christmas preparations to be made, and I really wanted something seasonal, but what to choose?  Then I had a lightbulb moment: I remembered that my mother had told me about an article in The Telegraph at the beginning of December which stated, "A warm November with Christmas decorations up early has led to a reverse Narnia, where it is always Christmas and never winter."  Narnia!  I took out of its slipcase my precious copy of The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis.  It made a perfect December read, particularly for this year - ice and snow, Father Christmas, spring emerging to bring hope and the triumph of good over evil.  I'm sure you can see the metaphor.

My last December read was a gift from Father Christmas (whose handwriting is identical to my mother's - isn't that funny?).  This is not my first copy of A Christmas Carol but it is the first one which is new to me and it is a beautiful edition, sitting well in the hand and with a good-sized font, which is increasingly important to me as the years pass.  I read it over a couple of days after Christmas.

So, that was my year in books.  It has been the strangest year of my life and I know that some people embraced the opportunity afforded them by lockdown and read dozens of books but I found myself unable to do that and at times when I felt that the ground was always shifting beneath my feet I found stability, comfort and relief in reading books I loved when I was a child and novels about the importance of caring human relationships.

Tonight we shall light fire and candles, eat, drink and be merry, just the two of us, as usual.    

 See you next year. 

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

Merry Christmas 1990

Happy Christmas!  I know that many people start taking down their decorations now but I keep a traditional Christmas and today is the fourth day.  Nobody has sent me any colley birds but it will be Christmas here until Epiphany on 6th January, when my three little magi will arrive at the crib. 

Something rather special happened on the day I wrote my last post, 23rd December.  The daughter of a dear friend sent me a message which said, "Quick!  Look on your doorstep," so I did, and there I found a shallow, blue Wedgwood box bound with satin ribbon.  I brought it inside, out of the rain, opened it and found a lovely plate, this lovely plate, which is now sitting in the middle of my dining table - 

Along with the plate there was a card which says, "In commemoration of the year we met and the amazing memories that followed."  The card is next to me on my desk right now.  I felt quite overwhelmed.  My friend is a quiet, shy person and we see each other infrequently - and not at all this year - but we have shared some wonderful and some dreadful experiences over these thirty years, the kind of experiences which form strong bonds.  I wept as those memories filled me up but I wasn't just weeping for the memories, I was weeping because at a bleak time when my emotional health has really been stretched, somebody had put time, money and energy into showing me that they love me and care about me.  

I intend to learn from this experience.  You don't always know how other people are coping and a small gesture can make a big difference.  I want the people who I care about to know that they are important to me.  But that's for next year, right now I am enjoying these quiet days between Christmas and New Year with good books, mince pies and crochet. This morning we watched the snow fall for a couple of hours, covering the view from the window with a pure white blanket for a few hours, although it has gone now.  Right now, things seem as they should be.

See you soon.

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x

Rolling With The Punches

Hello.  Do you know whether you are coming or going?  I'm not sure that I do.  It's just as well that the Best Beloved and I decided that we would have no definite plan this year and just roll with the punches, and this week, they have really felt like punches.  We thought that we knew where we would be on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and then Boris popped up on our screens on Saturday afternoon and within half an hour all the rules had changed again.  We remain in Tier 2, as do The Teacher and her family, but the big change for us was the alteration of the  rules for Christmas bubbles.  Messages flew through cyberspace, telephone calls were made and eventually, new arrangements were agreed.  The Teacher and her family will have breakfast with us and a late lunch with her husband's family so that her children will see all their grandparents on Christmas Day, not ideal but that is the only day that people from different households can meet together.  For the first time since 1987 the Best Beloved and I will have Christmas dinner for two.  (We are not cooking for two: he has bought a goose!)

An hour later we met my sisters and parents online for a Zoom meeting, as we have done every Saturday since Easter.  One of my sisters remained in Tier 2, another had gone into Tier 4 and while we were speaking the rest of them went into Alert 4 in Wales.  My head was spinning.  My parents will also be having Christmas dinner for two, for the first time since before I was born.  

Monday was the day of the winter solstice and this was the only day of the month for which I did have firm plans.  I wanted to watch the sun rise from the field behind The Teacher's garden, the place where I watched it rise on the day of the summer solstice and then I wanted to gather some greenery to bring into the house.  During the afternoon I wanted us to bring in and decorate our Christmas tree before going outside to watch the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn just after sunset.  In the evening we planned to watch a Midwinter concert online.  Well, we left the house at 7.30am and discovered that there was something wrong with the electrical system in the car.  Fortunately, we have another car so we used that one to drive to The Teacher's garden but the cloud was thick so we couldn't see the sunrise, it poured with rain so I didn't collect any greenery and the cloud cover shielded the planets in the evening sky as well.  Harrumph!  However, we did decorate the Christmas tree, light the fire and the candles, acknowledge the triumph of light over darkness and watch the concert, which was great.  

On Tuesday morning I left the house just before 7am and went to a big supermarket for the first time in nine months.  Sainsbury's was very civilised and I felt quite safe.  The Best Beloved was still in bed when I got home at 8am but after breakfast he had a proper look at his car and said that the problem was with the central locking system and although he could open the doors and the boot manually with a key, he couldn't open the fuel cap so we could only travel as far as we could get with the fuel which was already in there.   Meanwhile, I was on the 'phone to Italy.  I ordered a box of wine seven weeks ago which had gone astray.  I had been e-mailing the company to chase it up and the last communication I received from them stated that the order was being processed in the warehouse.  That was a week ago so I rang them to find out what was happening.  I spoke to a very nice woman who told me that the wine was still in Italy but assured me that I would have it before Christmas.  I told her that I wouldn't have it before Christmas because of the restrictions being imposed on travel between the UK and Europe and lamented that I would have to have a cup of tea with my Christmas dinner.  She then said that the wine would definitely be with me before the end of the year.  I am not hopeful and think that I might be toasting the new year with a cup of tea as well.  

In the evening the solid cloud cover hid the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn again.  The Best Beloved drove out to a dark, rainy car park to meet my brother-in-law and exchange Christmas presents.  We have always called this a "sleigh run".  He returned with wine, a gift from my parents for Christmas Day, and while he was driving home the car's electrical locking system had sprung back into life so he made the most of the opportunity and drove to the petrol station to fill up.  Hooray!

Today it has rained and rained and rained and I have felt very tired.  I wrote this blogpost this morning and the laptop lost its internet connection before I had saved my musings so they disappeared.  Fanbloomintastic.  The Secretary of State for Health gave a press briefing  at 3pm and announced that other counties will be going into Tier 4 on Saturday and to be honest, I felt relieved because when he started speaking I thought he was going to announce that nobody could mix with any other households on Christmas Day. Things change so quickly that it's hard to keep up but we remain in Tier 2 so we can still meet other people outdoors.  

At times this week I have felt as if everything is going wrong.  We had a dodgy moment at lunchtime today when we thought the Christmas tree lights had broken but we held our breath and they came on - phew!  There is still time for the Christmas rules to change, the Secretary of State hinted at that, so I don't actually know where I'll be or with whom but we have a goose, wine, candles and fuel for the fire so we'll be fine.  I'm so glad we decided not to make firm plans.  And I'm really sorry about that annoying central alignment of my first paragraph but I can't make it fully justified.  Hey ho, it's 2020.

See you soon.  

Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x