Merry Christmas!

"The days are coming," declares the Lord,

"when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch,

a King who will reign wisely

and do what is just and right in the land.

In his days Judah will be saved

and Israel will live in safety.

This is the name by which he will be called:

The Lord Our Righteous Saviour."

Jeremiah 23:5-6

Christmas Eve!

A Visit From St. Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung up by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter,

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

 When a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"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!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes - how they twinkled!  His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Clement Clarke Moore

There’s no Christmas like a home Christmas

So sung Perry Como, and I think he's pretty spot on with those lyrics.

We’ve been hard at work since blogging Back to TQ12 in October, getting one thing after another sorted and slowly turning our house into our home.  The sparkies came in and made safe the electrics, fitted a new fuse box and took out that delightful burnt-out wire in the airing cupboard (hmmm, burnt wire, dry linen, I can spot a potential problem…)  The plumbers have been in, ripped out the bathroom and replaced it with a brand new suite, installed a proper shower, tiled and laid a new floor, whilst also putting in a brand new boiler and removing the old water tank from the loft.  The aerial chaps have put a new TV aerial up for us and laid a new cable to replace the one that was leaking water into the lounge.  The garage door folks dropped by and fitted a nice new up-and-over.  We've taken delivery of a tumble drier, a fridge-freezer, a dishwasher, a sofa bed, an armchair, a dining table, bookshelves, cabinets and a fish tank, whilst all the while painting, painting, painting!

There’s still a lot to do, of course, but our efforts have aligned perfectly with the Christmas break, and we’re both looking forward to celebrating in our new home.  The usual decorations have made their seasonal re-appearance, spearheaded by my colourful cast of nutcrackers (sorry Lizzie!)  I started collecting these a few years ago when I picked one up in York, and since then I’ve acquired soldiers, counts, toy-makers, jesters, pirates, and one particularly interesting guard who looks like he's come straight out of a fantastical arctic kingdom. 

In the dining room, meanwhile, Christmas has arrived in Legoland, with a winter wonderland street scene of carollers, ice skaters and market-goers.  It’s a Cockington-meets-Cologne sort of place, capturing the bustle of Christmas Eve and the good-natured community spirit of old, where the townspeople would enjoy a carousel, and gather to watch as the star was placed lovingly upon the town square tree.

Talking of trees, the main event is standing proud in the lounge.  We’ve bought our first ever tree, a six-footer, and hung up many of our old favourites – some pre-dating both of us, others from childhood, and a few that we’ve bought at Christmas markets since.  I love tree decorations as they really tell a story and have a strong power to evoke memories.  The ceramic star from Salzburg, a nativity scene from Grandma, the home-made choirboys from Mum – visions of Christmas past, when as kids we used to love hanging charms on every branch, and remember (almost fondly) the year the tree toppled over and flung soil onto carpet, sofa, curtains and all.

So, Christmas has arrived at Number 3, and it’s shaping up to be a very merry one indeed.  I’m really looking forward to a few days off after a manic period at work, to indulge a little in some good food and drink, catch up on some festive films, and start working my way through a mountain of books.  And in the company of good people, what more could you possibly want?

The Lego imagination

It has been a bit quiet on the blog front recently, the result of a house-move, too much to do, and not enough hours in the day to write it all up!  But in amongst the madness and the mayhem of getting the house ready in time for Christmas, we managed to put a day aside to get up to London’s ExCeL Centre, and step into a world of bricks, blocks and minifigures – Brick 2014, one of the great pilgrimages of the Lego fan.

This blog has already established the limitless possibilities of Lego, but it was interesting to read Justin Parkinson’s article on BBC News Magazine last week, entitled Has the imagination disappeared from Lego.  Too many big pieces, too many instructions, too advanced, too... Prescriptive?  Parkinson debates both sides of the coin, without really drawing his own conclusions or opinions (good writing, I think.)  So, has Lego lost its imagination?  Read on for my take…

Top of the visit list at Brick 2014, the Fan Zone, where exhibitors (admittedly mostly adults) have shown what imagination they still have, in creating everything from skyscrapers to mountain hideaways.  Some of their work is seriously impressive, but what always astounds me is the minute level of detail that these builders go to.  A bubbling Jacuzzi.  The cooking of a pirate on a Polynesian island.  A tiny penny-farthing propped up on a Victorian street scene.  Lego makes an impact in the macro, but what remains in your memory is always the micro, and for me, this is where the toy really comes into its own, where it always steals a lead on its market competitors.  Lego’s attention to detail is terrific, a quality that has clearly not gone unnoticed by its legions of followers.  Even as a child I poured over the catalogues, looking out for the witty little scenes (I even remember seeing one slightly naughty scene going on at the side of the railway station – clearly one for the mums and dads!)  In those days, you could sometimes collect a poster for your wall, and these provided hours of entertainment, where there was always something new to spot.

I suppose there are two reasons for my visit Brick 2014.  Firstly, I like the models, their scale, their sense of fun, but also their architectural brilliance.  But secondly, perhaps more pertinent, is the nostalgia.  I like to see what other people have done with the sets that I used to own, to reconnect with those “I used to have that” memories.  Early 80s children may well remember the Fabuland series, the Lego world inhabited by animals, and the associated story books.  Here at Brick 2014, laid out across several square metres, was Fabuland itself – every house, every car, and every creature, calling you back, ringing those bells of childhood and screaming “hey, remember me?”  Yes, I remember Fabuland – how could I forget the bulldog policeman, the florist lamb, the grocer rabbit, and their idyllic, simple little world?

Lego, I think, will always inspire children.  Through building their own worlds they will learn about the world – about history, science, society.  One builder had set about the painstaking task of recreating the Battle of Rorke’s Drift, from the Anglo-Zulu War, an event that even I had to look up when I got home, proving that the power of education isn’t just limited to children.  Give a child a toy, with a theme, and surely they’ll naturally pursue an interest.  Building Airfix kits got me interested in the Second World War.  My mum’s old jigsaw puzzle of English counties sparked an enthusiasm in British geography.  And I know that having Lego knights, forest men, monarchs and bandits was at least a contributing factor, setting me on the road to a love of history I’ve held since I was a boy.  Kids are not stupid – and if they’re anything like I was, they look for the context in things because it gives an even richer, more fascinating playtime.

I think it’s unimaginative to suggest that Lego is unimaginative.  For the roads that lead out of this plastic brick toy will take you anywhere if you allow it, and if you yourself have an imagination.  In fact, I’d go as far as to say that, in the age of 24-hour mobile technology, where computer games are on-tap and kids’ TV beams preconceived ideas straight into young minds, Lego’s need in childhood is greater than ever.  How else can you create a whole cityscape in your own bedroom?  Journey to an exotic island on a pirate ship?  Storm a castle with a catapult and steal away the king’s treasure?  Just accept that the carpet is a vast, endless ocean, believe that the bed is a huge, treacherous mountain, and you'll find it all there for the taking, there if you have the imagination to begin with, whether you follow the instructions to the letter, or create your very own off-the-wall creations.  Maybe the girl with the Lego castle will grow up to be an archaeologist.  Perhaps the boy with the pirate ship will one day join the Navy.  It may be that they’ll never touch Lego again; but it might just prove to be one of the biggest influences in their young lives.  Has the imagination disappeared from Lego?  Nah, I don't think that's possible.