A typical scene?

 

A typical scene?

Christmas cards come in many designs, but frequently snow is featured on them in UK. We used to have snowy winters, though I cannot remember ever having a white Christmas in the south of England. I have lived in many other regions, but a white Christmas has always been most elusive.

 Nonetheless, many cards depict pretty scenes of snow-covered roofs, or churches nestled in the hearts of picture postcard villages. Not many people live in such locations.

This mug shows a snowy house on a fine, bright day, with a cheerful robin in the foreground. It looks idyllic. Imagine the roaring fire in the drawing room and the kitchen bursting with tempting smells. In the dining room the table is laid with the best china and silver and glassware in expectation of a fine feast, impeccably cooked and served. Everyone’s plate, warmed beforehand, of course, is laden with delicious fare and no-one’s food is cold.

If you can manage that, I applaud you. Etiquette dictates that no-one may start to eat until everyone has been served. That is possible if there is a party of four or five, but with a family of fifteen or more, which happens as people add to the company with spouses and offspring, it is well-nigh impossible.

The reality is rather different. The house, old, draughty, with uncertain air currents and ill-fitting windows and doors, gives its inhabitants cold noses and toes. The fire gutters and goes out, the roof leaks, and everything feels damp. Lunch was planned for one o’clock, but the oven is unpredictable and those in charge of the cooking had forgotten about the gravy or the sprouts. The huge turkey, which barely fits in the oven, should have been started on its culinary journey at least three hours earlier. Eventually, everything is ready and the meal commences hours later. Despite the delays, everyone enjoys their meal, but most of all, it’s being together that can be pleasing.

The other side of the mug shows a little more of the village in which the big house stands. Splendid trees, crowned with snow, provide a background to the gabled roofs of houses. The stream that runs under the bridge is frozen. It is a peaceful, bucolic scene.

Again, the truth may be more prosaic. Heavy rains fall and melt the snow, the water level in the stream rises, and the inhabitants find their homes flooded. Services are cut off and those who had the foresight to stock up with candles try to enjoy the strangeness of a home without any noise from appliances, hoping that the novelty will not last long.

However, it’s fun to dream.

The bands at the top and bottom of the mug show oak leaves and acorns, national symbols of the UK. They represent strength and fortitude, good fortune and health.

Actually, I must have liked this mug enough to buy it ten years ago, but I really don’t care much for it now. What was I thinking?

Gilbert the Good – Christmas Epistle

 

Gilbert the Good – Christmas Epistle

Andrew mentioned that I hadn’t written a blog post recently. My last one was in August this year.

I am pleased to report that I’ve been going out for long walks in the forest with Barry. It feels strange to go out without Roxy, as I really like playing with her, but at the moment, she goes out first and then I go out afterwards. I like meeting people and playing with different dogs, but Roxy is my best playmate, followed by Arthur, Susannah’s dog.

 I can’t wait for Janice to get back into walking. Maybe, when she’s had her injection on Friday, she’ll be able to walk further than the end of the drive, then we’ll all be able to go out together, like we used to. Paws crossed!

It's been a strange year. Susannah came to stay for a few weeks with Arthur and the cats. Now she’s moved to London, and we all miss her. She’s coming to see us soon and that will make Roxy and me very happy, especially as Arthur will come with her.

Barry has been back and forth to different hospitals for months. I don’t know what months are, but I think it means a long time. He’s had so much blood taken that I think his arm must be empty by now, and he needs a photograph album for all the pictures he’s had taken of his insides. I can’t see the point of that. I mean, you wouldn’t want to frame them and put them on the wall, would you? Everyone seems to be pleased with him, though, so that’s good.

The angle of this photograph makes Jellicoe appear bigger than his brother, but he's much smaller than Herschel.

Jellicoe is much happier since he had some teeth out and his breath certainly smells sweeter. He’s spending more time with Herschel, even sleeping in the same bed – one of our dog beds - though they still squabble from time to time.

Here's Jellicoe with Roxy.

Most of the time, Herschel and Jellicoe like to cuddle up with us, and that’s really nice.

Here's Herschel with me. He's looking quite cross, but he's not. He's just relaxing.

I hope it won’t be so long before I write another blog post, but it has been a busy year and we all hope that next year will be much, much better.

Meanwhile, I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy and Healthy 2025. Make the most of every day and try to ‘Always look on the bright side of life.’

 TTFN

Gilbert

The Holly and the Ivy

 

The Holly and the Ivy

One of my favourite Christmas carols, this song dates from the early 19^th century, though the association between Christmas and holly goes back to at least mediaeval times.

The Holly and the Ivy

The Druids of ancient Celtic times in Britain, Ireland and France considered holly a symbol of both fertility and eternal life. They thought the tree possessed magical powers. Ivy represents friendship and loyalty and is believed to protect against disaster. Holly and ivy together signify harmony in the family.

In the carol, holly represents Jesus and ivy represents  Mary.

The small white summer flowers of the holly are symbolic of peace and optimism. In the carol, the words ‘as white as the lily flower’ are reminders of the birth of the baby Jesus.

The scarlet holly berry is ‘as red as any blood,’ and the sharp, prickly leaves are thought to represent Christ’s crown of thorns. The holly tree bark is bitter, like the gall that was raised to Christ’s lips on the cross. The gall was thought to be a drug to ease pain.

Thus, the carol brings to mind the whole of Christ’s life, from lowly birth to ignominious death as a common criminal.

The rising of the sun

And the running of the deer,

The playing of the merry organ,

Sweet singing in the choir.

Time to decorate the tree

 

Time to decorate the tree . . . at last!

                                The tree in all its naked glory

The annual dressing of the tree is taking place in the Cooke household. There is a tradition in place, which we never wish to repeat, but somehow always do. Every year, without fail, there is a small drama around the Christmas tree lights. Each Twelfth Night, when I strip the tree, I carefully wrap the lights round tubes so that they won’t tangle when I get them out. Then I put them ‘somewhere safe,’ along with the tree and the decorations.

                         What's in the tin? Something toothsome?

                                    What do you expect me to do? 

There is quite a lot of toing and froing in our house, with people coming and going, and ‘things’ are moved around. So, this year, we cannot find them. We know they’re somewhere in the house . . . or possibly the garage, which is another disaster area, with absolutely no room for a car. 

                                                     Decorations!

Rather than tear our hair out in a probably fruitless search, we have decided to buy another set. Again, this is quite a familiar task, for if we do ever manage to track down the missing illuminations, we often discover that they don’t work/bulbs are missing/wires are frayed. I am full of puzzled admiration for those families who manage to keep their lights for years and never have a problem with locating them and/or getting them to work. That is never going to be our fortune.

Meanwhile, until the new lights arrive, our tree sits in quiet understated splendour.

  

I have a tiny tree which has an ever-changing light display to spread some Christmas cheer while we wait. How long will it be before the battery gives out, and will we have the right size replacement? That’s another perennial teaser.

What were we doing?

 

What were we doing?

Photographs like these pop up in our displays all the time and they stir many memories.

Just before Christmas in 2009, we were delighting in our baby black Labrador puppy, Gus. He adored Frodo, my Velcro dog and spent as much time as he could tucked up with him or following him around. Frodo was an awkward dog with anyone he didn’t know, including other dogs, but was as gentle as could be with all the young ones in our family, whether two or four-legged. He was a faithful, loyal companion. He had many health problems, but he taught us so much. There are a number of blog posts about his life.

Gus grew into a very handsome boy, much admired by those who met him. He was a kind, sensitive dog, always anxious to please. He lived with enough dogs in the family that he never felt the need to meet and greet other dogs, though he was perfectly friendly if they approached him. He wrote many blog entries.

They are both much missed. Being remembered by those who loved them grants them immortality.

                ‘Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.’

Orhan Pamuk (1952-present)

Candy canes

 

Candy canes

Today’s mug is an interesting shape and features images associated with Christmas festivities. I’m familiar with all of them, though the candy canes were not something associated with Christmas when my children were growing up. I have noticed them increasingly in recent years and they now seem to be an established part of Christmas décor in UK.

A legendary explanation for the origin of candy canes comes from Germany. It claims that in 1670 a harassed choirmaster at Cologne Cathedral was seeking a way of keeping his high-spirited choirboys quiet during Mass on Christmas Eve. He asked a local confectioner to make some sugar sticks that he could give the boys. In order for the sweets to be acceptable in a religious setting, he asked the confectioner to bend the tops of the sticks so that they resembled shepherd’s crooks, which would remind the children of the shepherds involved in the Nativity.

Peppermint candy canes

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

There is no way to prove the truth of this story, but references to it were not made until the middle of the twentieth century. The tradition of candy canes spread from Germany to other European countries and eventually to the United States. The first recorded use of candy canes in the States came in 1847, when a European immigrant in Ohio decorated a small tree with canes.

For two hundred years, candy canes were white. Coloured stripes were not introduced until the beginning of the twentieth century. Traditionally, candy canes are red and white, and flavoured with peppermint, but today they can be found in assorted colour combinations and tastes.

Peppermint is a natural deterrent to animals. It is thought that peppermint canes were hung on Christmas trees to discourage rodents and other small animals from damaging them.

Made to measure

 

 Made to measure

Jellicoe and Herschel enjoy the Christmas season. They particularly appreciate the influx of cardboard boxes. No matter what size they are, they have to be assessed for the efficiency of their insulation. Does cardboard have tog ratings in the same way that duvets do?

It's more of a tight squeeze for Herschel . . .

 

                        . . . but possession is nine tenths of the law!

Gilbert is intensely interested in boxes at any time of the year. His nose nudges human hands working to open them. He likes investigating the packing material so often found inside and frequently carries it to his bed for further inspection. This involves pulling it gently apart with his teeth, to further understand its composition. Roxy is often invited to aid in the analysis.

Just like small children, cats and dogs are as delighted by the boxes as by the contents. I wish we could all be so readily pleased.

 

An introduction

 

An introduction

                                            Elsie's self-portrait

Allow me to introduce a sweet lady of my acquaintance. Elsie is 104 years old and is the sixth oldest person in Britain.

Elsie’s husband, Sidney, died many years ago, but, although she misses him, she is not lonely and has a lively and varied social life.

She has always had an active brain and is ever ready to develop new skills and enjoy fresh experiences. To that end, she has recently acquired a computer and has been using it to write letters to recipients as diverse as the Governor of Pentonville Prison, the Royal Society of Medicine, the Pope, and Kellogg’s. 

Her overriding wish is to be recognised and allowed a chance to shine. There is no limit to her imagination, from concocting an enticing recipe for tuna, beef and banana pies for Gregg’s (the baker) to pondering what effects would result from pouring paint from the top of the skyscraper at Canary Wharf.

Her letters have been compiled into a book, ‘The Elsie Drake Letters.’ As an inspiration to older people everywhere, Elsie Drake is unrivalled.

I am honoured to have had the pleasure of her company.

                            This is the front cover of Elsie's book

O Tannenbaum

O Tannenbaum

                                Mug painted by Frankie, aged 3

This German folk song was translated into English and eventually developed into the Christmas carol we know today, ‘O Christmas tree.’ It started as a song to celebrate the hardiness and positivity of the fir tree through the hard, cold winter season.

I like hearing it sung in German.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

The Twelve Days of Christmas

I’ve posted this link at least twice before, but it makes me laugh so much. If you’ve seen it before, my apologies. If you haven’t seen it before, I hope you enjoy it. 

To off set it, try the Christmas Can Can

It’s good to see that Hannukah is celebrated in this sketch, too. At the end is a mention of Kwanzaa, which was something new to me.

Wikipedia, that invaluable resource, says:

Kwanzaa is an annual celebration of African-American culture from December 26 to January 1, culminating in a communal feast called Karamu, usually on the sixth day. 

It was created by activist Maulana Karenga, based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West, East, as well as Southeast Africa.

Kwanzaa was first celebrated in 1966. Twenty-first-century estimates place the number of Americans who celebrate Kwanzaa between 500,000 and 2,000,000.

Kwanzaa is not a religion and can be celebrated by any African American or Pan-African, of all faiths or none. It was created by a black separatist, who said it was to: 

"give black people an alternative to the existing holiday of Christmas and give black people an opportunity to celebrate themselves and their history, rather than simply imitate the practice of the dominant society."

Let’s hear it for the reindeer!

 

Let’s hear it for the reindeer!

‘Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!’

There has been controversy and debate about the author of the poem from which these lines come. ‘A Visit from St Nicholas’ was published anonymously in 1823, when its title was, ‘Account of a Visit from St Nicholas.’  Fourteen years after it appeared, Clement Clarke Moore claimed that he had written it, but some critics argue that Henry Livingston Jr was the author.

Whatever the truth of the matter, the poem has remained a favourite Christmas verse. Small children are entranced by the idea of Santa Claus guiding his reindeer through the night skies with a sleigh full of gifts for good little girls and boys. St Nicholas is the patron saint of children.

Santa Claus or St Nicholas derives his name from the Dutch Sinterklaas. He was a rich man and the Bishop of Myra, the ancient Turkish city. He used his considerable wealth to help the poor and needy. His feast day is December 6^th, and his generosity is associated with Christmas. When Dutch people emigrated to America, they took the legend of Sinterklaas with them and soon he had been adopted by Americans and renamed Santa Claus.

In England, the Spirit of Christmas is known as Father Christmas.

On 6^th December, Sinterklaas arrives in Amsterdam in a ship that has sailed from Spain, where he lives. He rides ashore on a white horse, accompanied by his servant, Zwarte Piet (Black Pete). Dutch children leave their shoes out with food for the horse and Sinterklaas rides across the Netherlands on that evening, replacing the horse’s food with little gifts.

Mikolaj, St Nicholas, appears in Poland on this day, too, bringing confectionery and little presents to excited children.

On Christmas Eve in Germany, children eagerly await the advent of the Christkindl, the Christ child. They are not allowed into the room with the Christmas tree in it. When they eventually go in, they are always just too late to glimpse the Christkindl, but they know he has visited, because there are gifts under the tree for them.

In Italy, children receive gifts on 6^th January from an old lady called Befana. 6th January is Epiphany, or Three Kings’ Day, the day when the Three Kings or Wise Men, led by a star, arrived in Bethlehem to visit the baby Jesus.

Befana heard about the baby’s birth from the shepherds, but she was too busy to go and see him. When she finally found the time, it was too late, for the family had left. Ever since then she has wandered the world looking for the baby and leaving a gift at every house in case he should be there. It’s a similar story to that of Babushka in Russia, though for her it was the Three Kings who came to her house, seeking shelter and telling her about the new king.

Christmas is celebrated on 7^th January in Russia, when Grandfather Frost and his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden, give gifts to the children after they have sung songs and recited poems.

It is the little traditions around festivals that make them memorable and pleasurable. Seeing the awe and delight in the faces of small children as the magic unfolds is a fine counter to the cynicism that can creep in.

Other feasts and carnivals given to us by other faiths also wield their enchantment and allow adults to see again the world through a child’s eyes.

                                                      One last thing – you may have noticed that the reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh all have antlers. While it’s true that males and females have antlers bestowed on them, it is only the females that retain them in the winter. So, it is the ladies who are doing the hard work, apart, of course, from Rudolph,who is an honorary helper for Father Christmas.                     

Something odd

 

Something odd

 . . . is happening to my Reading List. The most up-to-date post appears, from whomever, and is then followed by posts from 5, 6, 7 years ago from people who no longer blog. It’s been happening for a couple of days and is irritating, to say the least! Then I have to scroll back to see if I’ve missed any recent posts from current bloggers.

Is anyone else having this problem?

Jellicoe goes to the vet

 

Jellicoe goes to the vet

Jellicoe’s breath has been less than sweet lately, a fair indication that his teeth need attention. He also has a small cyst on his head that swells and recedes periodically. Thus, today he has spent the day with the vets. He was most put out this morning because he wasn’t allowed any breakfast and yowled loud protestations when put into his carrying basket, and all the way to the veterinary surgery. Fortunately, it’s less than five minutes away by car.

Selene-the-vet ‘phoned later to say that Jellicoe has had some extractions, and the cyst has been removed and sent off for analysis. He will soon return home to Herschel’s annoyance. Herschel rather enjoys being an only cat, though recently he has been sleeping alongside his brother, which is quite unusual. They will often both sleep together with one or other of the dogs. Dogs are big and warm and comfortable.

When the brothers squabble, one of the dogs will step between them, as they would between two arguing dogs. 

The cats treat the dogs like oversized kittens, grooming them, which the dogs seem to enjoy. Gilbert will often nudge whichever cat has been cleaning him, if it stops, asking for more attention. I suppose the rasping tongue is somewhat akin to a massage.

Poor Jellicoe is looking a little ragged, some of his fur having been shaved off, but it will soon grow back.

He is very happy, chirruping and purring and rubbing round everyone and everything . . . and starving, as usual! 😺

Different tones and cantering horses

 

Different tones and cantering horses

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

‘Arrive twenty minutes before your appointment’ was the instruction, so we duly set off a good ninety minutes before on our forty-minute journey. We always leave plenty of time because we never know which road out of the village will be the next one to be blocked with road works and traffic lights.

We were fortunate and arrived at our destination with a good half hour to spare, so continued listening to the audio book ‘Six Weeks’ by John Lewis-Stempel. I recommend it if you’re interested in WWI history. I read it a few years ago but it’s interesting to hear it read aloud.

Twenty minutes before my scan was scheduled, I presented myself and was asked to wait. Barry went off to get some excellent free hot chocolate from the drinks machine, and we settled for what we hoped would be a short interval. By four o’clock, thirty minutes after my appointment was due, Barry went to enquire what was happening. It seemed there were technical problems. The radiologist appeared, full of apologies, as if it were his fault, and eventually I was invited into the room with the big cylinder.

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Paul, the radiologist, asked if I would like some music to be played through the headphones, but I declined. I don’t like being completely shut off from the outside world. So, I was slid feet first into the tube and soon Paul’s cheerful voice told me we were about to begin. Clankings and hammerings started and then I was slid out again. Just as I was thinking, ‘That was jolly quick,’ Letitia told me I had to be repositioned, and back into the metal tomb I went.

It was fascinating. There was such a variety of tones, notes, rhythms, melodies. At times it sounded as if someone was trying to hammer their way in. There was a series of rapid beats, which I counted until I lost count around 130. The most interesting one to me was the sound of cantering hooves accompanied by a counterpoint lower tone and beat.

All the while, Barry was sitting watching the images. He can truthfully say he knows me inside out, now.

All the staff were charming and extremely apologetic, but machines can malfunction, and people have to be patient. That’s why they’re called ‘patients.’

I have a CD with my images on, as a back-up, ‘just in case’ device should the machine to machine, hospital to hospital communication fail, if it’s ever needed. In a few days, I will discover what steps need to be taken next. I think it will be more physiotherapy. When I look at other people and hear what they have to bear, I feel most fortunate.

I compared notes with my son, who’s had a few scans. He took the option of hearing classical music through the headphones, but had to press the emergency button, because the music was so dreadful he didn’t think he could stand if for 45 minutes.

There was one last thing we were told, which amused us, but isn’t funny if you are unfortunate enough to have to experience it; if a patient is too large to fit into a standard MRI machine in this country, they are sent to the zoo to be scanned there. Other options for larger patients are available at the Royal Veterinary College or one of the centres which have Upright MRI machines.

                                                Upright scanner

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I can quite understand people who suffer from claustrophobia having a panic attack in an MRI scanner. For them, an upright open MRI could be the answer.   

                                                Open scanner
                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Christmas is coming

 

Christmas is coming

Christmas is coming, the geese are getting fat,

Please to put a penny in the old man’s hat;

If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do,

If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you.

This is an old English carol, often sung as a round. It was first seen in print around 1895. (The words here are the version I have always sung.)

As geese were associated with Christmas, as a fine bird to eat, the idea also was that it was a good time to behave charitably, either giving money, or, if that were not possible, a blessing. In this case, the blessing was for the poor person who didn’t even have a ha’penny to spare. 

Christmas mugs

 

Christmas mugs

This is something of a rambling post. ‘So, what’s new?’ I hear you mutter.

A few years ago, I started collecting Christmas mugs and for a while they were brought into use for the whole of the festive season, from December 1^st to January 6^th.

In 2023, I completely forgot about them, but this year I am determined that they will not be left, neglected and unloved, in the sideboard, the very sideboard that was responsible for my sojourn on the floor.

It’s odd the way some people apportion blame to inanimate objects. For example, when my children were small, if one of them caught their shin against a chair, the cry would go up, ‘Naughty chair!’ or was that just my mother-in-law who said that? (My mother would say, ‘Never mind, rub it better,' just as I do.)

A comforting path lies somewhere between truth and fantasy. When my husband was a little boy of five or six, he broke his arm, but instead of telling him he was going to the hospital, his mother told him he was going to a party. I suppose she was trying to be kind and spare him the fear of going to hospital, but I can’t think he would have been in much of a party-going mood. A little gentle preparation would have been much kinder.

When a toddler is told he’s going to have a baby brother or sister, all too often emphasis is laid on what fun it will be to have a sibling to play with. I made a peg doll family to explain to my small children that the baby would be small and noisy and not a playmate for a very long time. Would it have made any difference to them to let them believe that another baby would not affect the family dynamic? I don’t know, but they seem to have weathered the trauma of additional siblings and grown into sensible, loving parents in their own families.

Three-year-old Charlie had a very robust reaction when Jack was brought home from hospital. ‘Put him in the dustbin!’ he said. The two boys, now nine and six years old, are very affectionate with each other, most of the time, and Charlie is quite pleased with his younger brother. Jack is certainly delighted to have a big brother.