It’s all about the whiskers

With everything working fine again (touching wood at that point) I went off to a meeting with some WI colleagues this morning, over at our college near Abingdon.  There was the usual Monday morning chatter, including a lovely story about the local garden centre Santa Claus.  It seems as though he’s the real deal and clearly the experience had left a great impression on one small girl and her Mummy too.  Driving home this afternoon, I was thinking about those visits to Father Christmas and looked out a couple of pictures.

I have this photograph from around 1962, when I was taken to see him in Hammonds, one of the department stores in Hull.  Simple times, eh?  I don’t know if we were given a present or not, but I’m sure we just turned up and took our turn to stand by him and have our picture taken.  I’m not sure I was fooled by that false beard, even then, but I guess I went along with it or whatever story I was told.

Moving on a generation and a similar photograph of Edward, around the same age as I was, taken with Father Christmas in Harrods.  We loved going there, walking through the elaborate world they’d created and to see this beautifully dressed chap who was definitely considered to be the Man Himself, even after close inspection of his whiskers.  We’d go early and thanks to the school holidays starting a little earlier around here, the queue wouldn’t be too long, we hoped.

Fast forward the to this afternoon.  I’d planned to stop by the farm shop at the garden centre, to pick up one or two things but thought I’d go and take a look at the Christmas Grotto whilst I was there.  Oh my goodness!  Not only do they offer booked appointments with the man himself, the whole experience is in an altogether different league!

Sadly, I had no small child to take in there, so had to rely on what I’d been told and what I could see (and read on the website!)  Happy elves were greeting children and their parents and the whole affair was beautifully done.  There were real reindeer to feed with magic food, the elves were telling jokes and teaching songs to the children and Father Christmas was there in his own sitting room, ready and able to spend the time to tell a story whilst parents enjoyed a mince pie or two. When it was time to leave, the children were taken to the toy room and invited to choose something from the shelves.  Best of all, according to my reliable source, he’s the real Father Christmas too, “because his beard is growing from his face”.

Actually, I’d enjoyed wandering about having a look around, though this flying goose surprised me rather!

But sadly, it was starting to rain and the (real) ice rink was empty.  I could see a small family there waiting to skate and I hung around a while, hoping to see how they got on.  I was getting wet though, so left them to it and went inside.

More magic.  More flying geese!  How beautifully this place has been decorated for the season.  No wonder the garden centre has become a bit of a destination these days – there were several minibuses and groups of people here.  Some were shopping, but many were doing as I was – having a look around and admiring the decorations.

Just before I left, I poked my nose outside to see what was going on in the ice rink and spotted the small family moving gingerly around the edge.  Their small daughter was skating slowly along, holding tightly to a push-along seal and memories were being created as her parents lovingly braved the rain out there.

Colder weather and a few more people would have given a little more atmosphere; had it been dark, the lights would have twinkled a little more and the floodlit rink would have been more of a focus.  But none of that mattered on this rainy Monday morning, because the only thing they’ll remember is the magic.

The unmistakeable sound

of dripping water.

I’d only popped into the garage to put something away on one of the shelves, but the noise that greeted me could mean only one thing.

The pipes had fallen from the ceiling again.  Third time this year?  And the same joint had broken right there above the boiler, so hot water was flowing freely down the wall. 

Whilst we scurried around trying to minimise the damage, we spoke to a sympathetic British Gas person who prioritised our call and promised to send an engineer round as soon as possible.  So much for spending a peaceful day at home, eh?

(Mary, I’ll update this later, just in case you need to pack your warmest clothes!!)

Update on Sunday, December 15, 2013 at 4:52PM by Gill Thomas

The engineer is just writing his report, having fixed the pipes "more securely" to the ceiling of the garage, repaired the leaking joint and restarted the heating.  The hot water was draining from our central heating system, so he's bled all the radiators and assures us that he's happy all is fine.  It's taken almost all afternoon to resolve all of this, but hopefully, that will be that.

So, Mary, there's no need to bring ALL your Winter woollies when you set out this evening.  Have a safe flight and we'll see you soon!

How many days?

I hadn’t really given it much thought, but knew that the time was flying by.  All my good intentions to savour the jollity during the first part of December have been hard to maintain, but spending the evening with our small friends last night, it was hard to ignore.

Just over a week.  Hmmm.

Actually, we have been having a great deal of fun and there have been plenty of chances to enjoy the season.  We spent Thursday in London, meeting friends for lunch and the theatre and loved seeing the beautifully decorated shop windows as we walked.

The snowglobe at Piccadilly is a clever way to protect the statue during the holidays don’t you think?

After the theatre, as night fell, the lights in Leicester Square were looking really pretty, reminiscent of mistletoe in the trees.

But by the time we reached Regent Street, we were beginning to tire of the crowds, the noise levels and the need for constant vigilance to keep our belongings safe.  I love to spend time in the city, especially at this time of the year, but oh my, the people!

So we took refuge and found a peaceful eyrie high up in John Lewis in Oxford Street, from where we could sit and enjoy a drink and a fine view of the goings on around us.  Carol singers on one of the lower floors provided a seasonal soundtrack whilst we gathered up our energy for the last push home.

A last snap of Christmas lights in New Bond Street, on the way back to the car park and we were done.  On the way home, we reviewed our Christmas preparations and agreed that we didn’t really need to brave the crowds any more this year and could manage with local shops from now on.

Which is exactly what we did this morning.  The Salvation Army band in Cirencester Market Place were playing beautifully (a pity they were standing around that ugly green box, but never mind).  Fortified with one of Bob’s marvellous breakfasts, we did what we had to do and enjoyed pottering about the town.

I know, it’s not Fortnums or Harrods, but look at the Moomin Nativity in Octavia’s bookshop window!  So cute – I love it!

I love the Moomin angel best of all!

Then, on the way home, I managed to sneak a snap of this fine fellow who has appeared recently in a nearby field.  Carved from the remains of a tree trunk, he stands proudly above the busy road gazing over the valley to the hills.  At the start of December, he acquired a garland of evergreens and a string of Christmas baubles in each hand. 

Isn’t he great?

Time to breathe

It’s been quite a weekend.

The Christmas Concerts were marvellous and got us off to a great start.  Friday night’s full house audience received one of the best performances ever according to popular opinion, so when a handful of our oldest friends decided to join us for Saturday, we kept fingers crossed that the choir hadn’t peaked too soon.  No worries, because it was another triumph and once again, the audience were thrilled.

Still on a high, we got ready to welcome a bunch of friends and neighbours and prepared to set the scene for a jolly Sunday lunchtime.  We assigned a few jobs: Edward assumed control of the roasts (we’ve trained him well!) and our resident guests navigated their way around various playlists and the mysteries of itunes to put together a seasonal soundtrack for us.

 

The glasses were out on the table and a couple of wines opened for a “quality check” (so important to make sure that it meets the standard don’t you think?  ) 

We switched on “little urn” for those friends who prefer a cup of something to a glass.  Surprising how welcome a quick cup of tea is when there’s hot water on tap like that.  One of those boiling water taps would be such a good idea, if only we could summon up the courage to consider drilling a hole in a thick granite worktop!

So, the carving station was ready, the Christmas tree was lit and the chocolate fountain was ready to whirr into action when there was a knock at the door.  Surely, a bit early for guests, but no matter, we were ready…

But, remember this?

It seems as though since Thursday night’s power cut, we have been getting our electricity from a generator nearby and a group of chaps from the power company were about to make a permanent re-connection.  They’d come to tell us that our power was to be turned off in half an hour.

For a while, my supplies of seasonal jollity and good humour were severely depleted.  Suddenly, a few small disappointments prioritised themselves in my head and rather than focus on the good things, I despaired at everything which wasn’t going to work and found myself missing one or two special people who weren’t able to join us.  Even though all the roasts were done and ready, that no-one would notice the lights on the Christmas tree because it was bright sunshine and if we had to manage without the chocolate fountain, well, it wasn’t the end of the world.  Our sweet friends volunteered to sing their playlist (aaagh!), we lit a few candles and in no time at all, our jolly neighbours had pitched up bearing beautiful flowers, pots of homemade goodness and in no time those negative thoughts were gone.  The house soon filled with lovely sounds of people enjoying themselves, our smaller friends in their party finery did their best with the chocolate and no-one noticed when the Christmas tree lights came on again, because we were all too busy having fun. 

 

And later on, when nearly everyone had gone, one sweet friend sat down with us to explain her gift.  You see, she’d heard of our electrical problems in the last few days and had chosen the most enormous candle she could find, because as she said, we could not only light the room with it, but we could warm our hand and toes against it for the whole of Christmas, too.

Have I ever said how lucky we are? 

Decking the halls

It was time to bring those time capsules down from the loft.  The boxes which contain our Christmas decorations tell as much a story as the things they contain.  After all, who remembers buying a computer from Evesham Micros?  And that Daewoo box was from a TV with a VCR, so that goes back a year or two.

Opening up the first box, we find some old favourites.  Teddy Bear Postman is there, along with Lucy and Tom and of course, Postman Pat.  I couldn’t resist having a quick look through them all.

Getting out the decorations is a bit of a memory trip too, because although we don’t consciously collect them during our travels, we occasionally spot something which we like, such as the sweet little windmill and other small things from the Erzgebirge, the blue St Nicholas from Yalta and that cute Swedish Tomte figure.  There’s also a few things which remind us of sweet friends, like the Pohutukawa flower from New Zealand and the newest addition, a little cup from the friendliest Starbucks we’ve ever been to. 

So, you’ll understand why putting our Christmas tree up takes a while and why, yesterday afternoon we sat down for a short time with a cup of tea and called it a day.  My hero had an errand to run however, so off he went and I worked on my journal a little.

Until the lights went out, that is.  Unfortunately, just across the way in a neighbour’s garden, the overhead wires were brought down by the trees which had grown into them.  Thankfully, there was just enough daylight left to gather a few essentials and finish off the half-cooked late lunch/early supper (choir rehearsal on a Thursday, see?) on the camping stove.

I cooked by fairy light and that of an upturned torch, carefully balanced on the glass extractor screen above the hob and all was fine.

As I stood at the window to take this photograph for my journal, I noticed the bright light in the sky.  We’d seen it on our way home from the Christmas Concert in Cheltenham the evening before last and with patchy reception, I’d used the Starwalk app on my iphone to identify it as Venus.  When I looked out a couple of minutes later, the moon was up too and the perfect crescent shape was beautifully placed alongside the planet.

Magical.  So many memories, as well.

It was a long evening though.  We had plenty of candles about so there were no worries about that;  I had my ipad and could read and reply to emails on my phone, too.

Of course, I’ll always remember hearing about Nelson Mandela’s death too, whilst listening to the crackly radio when “In Our Time” was interrupted by a newsflash.

Thankfully, power was restored just after midnight and this morning, all is well.  The trees in the lane around the corner look a bit hacked about but here on St Nicholas day the bears are suitably dressed and perhaps a few coins can be found in a slipper or two?

Let the fun begin!