Merry Christmas

Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.

Matthew 1:23

A Child's Christmas in Decoy - Grandma's Memories (1932)

Christmas in our house was a noisy, happy affair.  We made our own decorations.  Mother made the traditional Christmas puddings in a big brown crock.  We all had to have a stir and to make a wish.  They were put into muslin in basins and boiled in the big copper.  Nearer the day, she cooked a whole ham and tongue.  We all had a Christmas stocking and inside these would be trumpets, balls on elastic, a colouring book, and other odds and ends.  Nuts and oranges also featured, paints and books.  Of course, we woke early and in our excitement woke our parents.  Fires were lit early in both rooms and after breakfast we used the front room.  Mother dug up the Christmas tree from the garden and we put up the decorations and holly and mistletoe on Christmas Eve.  My father brought home a brace of pheasant which Mother cooked.  Mince pies were made the day before.  Tea was a jolly affair with crackers.  There were no plastic toys (etc) but lovely Japanese flowers which opened when put in water, and ferns which appeared when a match was lit and put to the corner of the paper.  There were hats and mottoes.  We loved them.  In the afternoon, Bill and I cracked nuts on the kitchen floor with a hammer!  Mother put out dates, figs, and other crystallised fruits.  We did not have a lot, but we were very happy.

Christmas at Number 3

The temperature is dipping, cards are falling through the letterbox, the kitchen cupboard is filling up with tasty foodstuffs, and the houses of the neighbourhood are suddenly bedecked in a million fairy lights.  It could only mean one thing - Christmas is here again!  

In our home, the decorations made their way up a couple of weeks ago, and this year there are some new additions to the tree.  A memento from New York City; a reminder of a treasured birthday trip to Longleat; a keepsake from a day trip to St Ive's in Cornwall; and a lovely gift of a hanging sailboat are amongst the new adornments, mingling with the old favourites that hang from every branch.  A Christmas tree is always the focus of the home's decorations, and for me it's the place to celebrate our childhoods and the rich memories that such decorations invoke, be they old or new.

Christmas really is a time to be at home, to reconnect with the people and the things we love and hold dear.  It's also an opportunity to switch off from work and the wider world, and to find some time for peace and reflection.  For me, this usually involves a good bit of reading, and I'm pleased to say that this year, I've a good selection to get stuck into through the dark and cosy evenings.  

A festive Yankee Candle wafts gently through the crooning tones of Perry Como and, just like in the world at large, Christmas has come to number 3.  We're looking forward to settling down for a few days of festive cheer with those we love - I hope every reader of my blog finds their peaceful and perfect home for the holidays. 

Longleat's Festival of Light

I recently celebrated my birthday in some style, by taking a trip up to Longleat House, courtesy of Lizzie.  Now, I haven't been to Longleat for more than 15 years, and in the intervening time, they've come up with a winter attraction that'll simply knock your socks off - the Festival of Light.  The estate has been holding the festival for the last few years, setting up a series of stunning Chinese lanterns around the grounds immediate to the old manor house.  This year, the festival took on the theme of The magic of storytelling, drawing inspiration from sixteen classic fairytales.  What they created was an enchanting and magical experience, the perfect activity for a pre-Christmas winter's night, and one that will live long in the memory.  Here are my highlights.

We began with Beauty and the Beast, a perennial favourite since Disney got ahold of the tale some 20-odd years ago.  A travelling merchant took a rose from a palace garden as a gift for his youngest daughter, named Beauty. The Beast, clearly unhappy with this turn of events, demanded the merchant come back with the first thing he met on the road.  This happening to be the merchant's daughter herself, Beauty was taken to the palace and confined within its walls.  In time, she came to grow fond of the Beast, and eventually they fell in love, after which time the Beast was transformed into a handsome prince.

Next, it's one of my favourites, The Nutcracker.  The Stahlbaum family were holding their annual Christmas party.  Drosselmeyer, godfather of the children Clara and Fritz, came with beautiful gifts, presenting Clara with a nutcracker.  Later in the evening, Clara snuck back downstairs, where she fell asleep with the nutcracker in her arms and, at the stroke of midnight, was shrunk down to toy size.  What unfolds next is a brilliant Christmas story - there's an army of mice and a battle with the Mouse King; a world of sweets; and land of snow; and the appearance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.  Clara awakes the next morning, her head swimming from her dream.  We saw this performed at the Royal Opera House a few years ago - it's touching, almost to the point of tears, when Drosselmeyer's soldier nephew unexpectedly returns.  Perhaps, afterall, the nutcracker was more than just a dream?

We both felt that our favourite lantern on the route was the ship from The Little Mermaid, which sat on the lake and evoked the spirit of seafaring adventure.  A mermaid princess rescued a prince from a shipwreck, leaving him on the shore to be found by a young girl.  The little mermaid continued to visit the prince's palace, observing him from a distance, where she eventually fell in love.  Wishing to become human, she was tricked by a witch into exchanging her voice for legs, and was told that she had to marry the prince, or die without a soul, and "become foam on the sea for other mermaids."  Unable to achieve her heart's desire, the mermaid thew herself into the sea, expecting to dissolve into foam.  Instead, she becomes an ethereal spirit, and is lifted up into the air, to join the daughters of the air who could earn their souls by good deeds.

The tale of Hansel and Gretel is one of the most famous fairytales of all, and was displayed brilliantly with the candy-cane laden house of sweets, in which an evil witch tempts a brother and sister, who have been abandoned in the forest by a poor woodcutter.  In the witch's house, Hansel is fattened up to eat, whilst Gretel is forced to cook and scrub.  Then, in a rather gruesome twist, Gretel tricks the witch into putting her head in the oven, and after she is bundled inside and thoroughly roasted, the children escape and return to their father, not before pillaging several treasures from the witch's home.

Now, I've never heard of the next tale, named The Gurt Worm of Shervage, but it's a relatively local tale, which has its roots in the Quantock Hills in Somerset, where a bloodthirsty dragon once rampaged through the countryside at night, and slept coiled like a tree during the day. A woodcutter, named Joe, was picking whortleberries on the edge of Shervage Wood, and when stopping for a break, sat upon a fallen tree, which started to wriggle.  Shocked, and slightly drunk on cider, Joe swung an axe at the tree, splitting it in half.  There was a howl of pain, and when Joe looked at his axe, it seemed to be dripping with dragon blood.  The two halves of the tree ran off in opposite directions, reaching Kingston St Mary and Billbrook, before they died.  The end.  A slightly odd tale from a slightly odd county, but the folk at Longleat did one hell of a job in creating this outstanding lantern.

Finally, to another lesser-known story, the Firebird.  Prince Ivan was lost in a deep forest, when he came across an enchanted garden belonging to an evil magician called Kostcheï.  A beautiful firebird appeared surrounded by enchanted trees full of magical apples, and was caught by Prince Ivan.  After a struggle, the bird offered the prince one of her feathers in return for her release, and promised to help him, if ever he was in trouble.  Prince Ivan accepted the feather, and the bird flew away.  The prince continued to wander the garden, until he was at the gates of Kostcheï's palace.  Here, 13 princesses emerged and began to dance, led by the beautiful Tsarevna, who told Ivan that they were all being held captive in the palace.  Prince Ivan followed the princesses back to the palace, where he was confronted by Kostcheï.  Ivan then called upon the firebird for help, and once she arrived, she defeated the evil magician, breaking the spell, and freeing the princesses.  Naturally, Ivan next married the most beautiful one. 

There were many other classic fairytales displayed here - Cinderella, Goldilocks, the Ugly Ducklings and the Frog Prince to name but a few - and I have to say, this really was a wonderful trip and a lovely place to visit on a cold and dark November night, which made a fabulous birthday to never forget - thanks Lizzie!  You can see all the photos from the Festival of Light on my Flickr album.

Remembrance 2017

I Remember Summer

I remember summer when the breeze blew soft and free

And I had plans to marry you; and you to marry me.

We dreamt in endless days of youth, but when the church bell rang,

There was no tale of love to tell, instead, of war, it sang.

I remember summer, how we parted on the morn.

A day of breathless sunshine, radiant fields of endless corn.

You wept into your handkerchief, and I into my heart;

A whistle shrill; a guardsman's call; announced the time to part.

I remember summer, tin pot hat and heavy gun

In training where we'd smash through bales of hay we labelled Hun.

The muster of our regiment, all brothers born of chance

Embarking on a boat to hell, the onward march to France.

I remember summer, days of cricket, days to dream,

Days of butterflies and ladybirds and picnics by the stream.

We'll someday reach our summer, when these bastard guns will cease;

I'll see you at the altar, come that distant summer peace.

The rhythm of Autumn

Autumn is in full swing again, bringing with it the usual blaze of colour, chilly skies, and earthy emotions.  The garden is preparing to shut down for another winter - or at least, it is moving into a new phase in its life - as late summer's passionate and exotic hues give way to the season's mellow tones.  For me, autumn is the greatest time of year, offering an opportunity to reflect, to bring in the last of the garden's harvest, and to be thankful for the season of plenty - as well as the festive time to come.  The focus of life, so firmly rooted in the garden over the June, July, August and September, shifts dramatically to indoors now, and leisurely sunshine barbecues and evening al-fresco beers are replaced with hot chocolates, and warming homemade crumbles on the sofa.  Talking of crumbles, Lizzie's first effort of the season is another stunner, made all-the-more pleasing by the fact that all the fruit (and there are apples, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries and blackcurrants) come from our own plot.  They're ingredients that make each-and-every mouthful that much more delicious.

Out on the plot itself, the party has finished amongst all but the hardiest of plants, and the world is bedding down for the cold weather ahead.  There's an urge amongst gardeners to clear and tidy their gardens at this time of year, but I take an entirely different approach, and will largely allow mine to die down naturally.  Fallen leaves and spent stems may not look all that attractive, but they're a God-send to all manner of insects and mammals seeking shelter in the cold nights, and seed heads will provide that extra bit of food to the birds that live in our neighbourhood.  Seed heads also add a wonderfully architectural element to the garden - they can definitely stay for winter.

The season is a very interesting one for those with a naturally inquiring mind, and around the garden at the moment I'm seeing plenty of fungi (including this superb toadstool, below) and a number of oak galls.  Oak galls are formed when an oak tree becomes host to a tiny type of parasitic wasp (Andricus kollari,) which lay eggs on oak buds.  The larvae inject chemicals into the buds to induce abnormal growths which enclose the larvae, giving them a safe space in which to develop.  Oak galls will frequently be seen with a small hole in the bottom - these are emergence holes, which gives you an understanding of just how small these creature are.  As usual, nature is amazing!

November arrives with the first frosts, and by the time I get home from work in the evening, it's already pitch-black.  Over the coming months, I will get but a glimpse of life in the garden, but whilst I leave it to its own devices, I have a strong sense that we're still living on the same rhythm, sharing the beat of the winter as it continues its inexorable march to the spring, when life will once more begin anew, and we will again greet old friends with excitement and vigour.

Autumn musings

The Autumn

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,

And turn your eyes around,

Where waving woods and waters wild

Do hymn an autumn sound.

The summer sun is faint on them - 

The summer flowers depart - 

Sit still - as all transform'd to stone,

Except your musing heart.

Nigella "Love-in-a-mist" seed head

Seed head of the teasel

How there you sat in summer-time,

May yet be in your mind;

And how you heard the green woods sing

Beneath the freshening wind.

Though the same wind now blows around,

You would its blast recall;

For every breath that stirs the trees,

Doth cause a leaf to fall.

The evocative crimson of the blueberry bushes

Fallen oak leaves

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth

That flesh and dust impart;

We cannot bear its visitings,

When change is on the heart.

Gay words and jests may make us smile,

When Sorrow is asleep;

But other things must make us smile,

When Sorrow bids us weep!

Japanese anemone - an autumn star

Contoneaster throng with berries

The dearest hands that clasp our hands - 

Their presence may be o'er;

The dearest voice that meets our ear,

That tone may come no more!

Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,

Which once refresh'd our mind,

Shall come - as, on those sighing woods,

The chilling autumn wind.

A bumper apple harvest awaits

Acorns

Hear not the wind - view not the woods;

Look out o'er vale and hill - 

In spring, the sky encircled them - 

The sky is round them still.

Come autumn's scathe - come winter's cold - 

Come change - and human fate!

Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,

Can ne'er be desolate.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Football legends, Lego style

So, the football season has started, and with it comes all the nostalgia of the years gone by.  A quiet afternoon at home made me think about some of football's most iconic photos, and after a quick search around the world wide web, it seemed only natural to let the cast of Lego Town Football Club take on a grand re-staging.  Here's some of my favourite iconic images transformed into Lego.  What's your favourite football photo?

1.  Leeds United's Don Revie and Billy Bremner with the FA Cup, 1972

2.  Paul Gascoigne's 'Dentist's Chair' celebration, 1996

3.  Barcelona's 'Holy Trinity' - Suarez, Neymar, Messi, 2015

4.  Vinnie Jones and Paul Gasgoigne - say no more, 1988

5.  Diego Maradona versus Belgium, 1982

6.  Bobby Moore lifts the World Cup for England, 1966

Late summer theatre

We've reached this point in the year.  The garden, mature, wise, and brimming with confidence is reaching its crescendo, the long-awaited final explosion of colour, the finale of the season, which brings its hottest, most intense and evocative assault on the senses.  No room here for the subtlety of spring past, nor yet for the mellowness of Autumn to come - it's here and now, it's fire-bright, and it's sizzling away in the late summer sun.

Many of my favourite flowers are coming into season right now.  First off, echinacea, a well-known summer staple these days, but one of my most-loved because of its enduring flowers, which should continue uninterrupted to the first frosts.  I can't get enough of their lovely flowers, whose seed heads grow more pronounced with age, and attract a plentiful supply of pollinators, including our resident population of gatekeeper butterflies.  Secondly, echinacea's native American cousins, rudbeckia, which comes in a whole range of varieties, some of which seem particularly tasty to the local slug population.  The standard is Rudbeckia goldsturm, whose cheery yellow flowers please the soul, but there are many others, including prairie sunset, summerina, and toto.  My experience this year tells me that slugs and snails are much more drawn towards these fancy varieties - and not just towards the leaves - flower heads are grazed bare, and new buds chomped down before ever having the chance to open.  Nonetheless, there are some things you just have to accept when gardening, and at least by focussing on these plants, the pests are ignoring several others.

What I love about my herbaceous border this year, is the way that it seems to be blending so effortlessly with the woodland bank beyond.  They are, of course, two totally different worlds - one natural and native, the other naturalised but undeniably artificial - but it has been a key aspect of how I am gardening here to blend the two, whilst simultaneously acknowledging their difference.  I liken this border to the old-fashioned country cottage garden, sitting on the periphery of the countryside proper.  To this end, I've got hold of three climbing frames that resemble, in my mind, the windows of an old abbey.  It forms a barrier through which the oak tree can casually poke its new leaves, and upon which honeysuckle can clamber to its heart's content.  It feels like a little bit of old England, a place through which a medieval monk would perhaps once have strolled.

Meanwhile down on the deck, I've been busy creating a little area that I call "the plantsman's corner."  It's sited on our lower deck, where you can easily be hit in the head by tumbling buddleia flowers, providing a real hideaway from the rest of the garden, if not the entire neighbourhood.  It has completely changed the feel of this little corner, turning it into a restful space in which I want to actively sit, to watch the world go by, listen to the bees, or read a book.  It's now home to my autumn raspberry pot, asters, heucheras, and an interesting variety of penstemon - penstemon digitalis - worth a place for its foliage alone, with its deep crimson and green leaves contrasting each other to perfection.  I also popped in a lovely red echinacea here, although as per the above paragraph, it has already felt the full weight of the slugs' appetite, who have eaten entirely through its blooms.

Finally today, and to our next instalment of "nicking other people's gardens and pretending they're part of your own," here's next door's stunning kniphofia, a patch which came up a couple of weeks ago, and have had me mesmerised ever since.  The 25-or-so flower heads are enough to make me (proud owner of one flower earlier this summer) mad with envy.  It seems to me that few flowers look so good in a clump as the red hot poker, and this really is a lovely little patch - something to aim for with my own stock next year.

Late summer is a beautiful, but fleeting, time of year.  With my planting scheme, it's the real star towards which I've been aiming since March, but now that we're here, you can almost feel the tremble of the earth, as Autumn begins its slow encroachment.  Blackberries are ripening fast, the leaves of the blueberry bushes are slowly fading into sunset tones, and there's a distinct increase in the number of spiders spinning webs across the pathways and between tree branches.  I caught this one sitting patiently across our wildflower patch - it's a sure sign of where we are in the season.

Knight Time

We love a good art trail here on Nich About Town. I mean, we really love a good art trail.  Seriously, we just love a good art trail.  So it should come as no surprise that, when the city of Lincoln put together their very own knights trail, we just had to get up there and see what all the fuss was about.  The trail commemorates the 800th anniversary of the (second) Battle of Lincoln, in which the barons of England, largely reunited after the death of their bitter enemy King John, rose to fight for the nine-year-old King Henry III, against Prince Louis of France, who had entered London and proclaimed himself King of England.  At the time of the battle - May 1217 - Lincoln Castle (a strategically important site) was under siege from the French forces, but William Marshal, first Earl of Pembroke, was mobilising an army of knights to join him in nearby Newark, to march to Lincoln and relieve the castle.  Their campaign was a success, although ironically they took revenge on the people of Lincoln, who they believed had aided the French troops, by sacking the city.

There's a second part to this story, also being celebrated along the trail.  Following the establishment of Henry III as king, the Charter of the Forest was sealed in November 1217.  The Charter, sealed under the regency of the aforementioned William Marshal, re-established the rights of access to the royal forest, which had been eroded by William the Conquerer.  The charter, often overlooked in British history, provided real rights and protections for common men in England, against the abuses of the aristocracy, allowing various activities around gathering fuel, charcoal burning, pasture, grazing, and cutting turf.  This was economic protection for free men - a unique document in its time.

In total, there were 36 knights to discover, spread across the city centre, from the Cathedral Quarter on the top of the hill, to the Brayford Pool at the bottom, with Lincoln's famous and aptly-named Steep Hill sandwiched between the two.  Our trail began at the top, and there was an appropriate reminder that we are but a handful of miles from Sherwood Forest, with Lincoln Green, a knight celebrating the legendary outlaw, complete with bow and arrows.

In the shadow of the great cathedral - a real marvel in its own right - sat several more knights on our trail.  My eye was particularly drawn to the knight called Inside Out, created by an artist truly inspired by both the interior and exterior of the cathedral.  On one side, the flying buttresses and vaulted ceiling are displayed in stunning detail, whilst on the other, the beauty of Lincoln's stained glass windows - and in particular, the legend of that most curious characters, the Lincoln Imp.  Legend says that two imps were sent to Earth to do the Devil's work in the 14th century, and on wreaking havoc in Lincoln Cathedral (in which they smashed tables, threw rocks, and tripped up the Bishop!) one was turned to stone by an angel.  The second was given the chance to escape, but is said to return to the cathedral, creating a draft as it circles the building in search of its missing comrade.

Leaving the cathedral and heading towards Lincoln Castle, we almost immediately run into Knight of the Skies, which pays homage to the region's wartime heritage and association with Bomber Command.  It's a regular theme around the whole city, for there were several airfields in Lincolnshire from where RAF pilots set off during the dark days of war, many never to return again.  The knight's shield proclaims the motto of Bomber Command - Strike Hard, Strike Sure - whilst the artist has gone to some length to portray the crew returning from a night of horror in the skies, walking amongst the poppies to commemorate the fallen.

Down the hill, just outside Lincoln's fabulous archaeology museum, sits another of my favourites, named The Luttrell Psalter.  The design is based on a Medieval text of the same name, which was produced in Lincolnshire in the 1300s, and is considered one of the most important documents of the period.  The knight's design features all manner of mythical and wondrous creatures, the sort that dwell deep in the forests, mountains and swamps of 14th century England.  To me, it evokes an age before we knew so much, when imagination turned the mundane into mystery.  The artist apparently applied an ageing technique to the painting, in order to give a unique appearance.

If one knight was designed to provide a centrepiece for the entire trail, it would have to be Knight in the Forest, a beautifully-decorated sculpture which displays the native flora and fauna that can be seen around Lincolnshire and beyond.  It isn't a stretch of the imagination to transport yourself back to the ancient forests, where our badgers, foxes, deer, squirrels and owls roam freely, threatened only by the appearance of the occasional woodsman.  Stunningly designed, an easy favourite that perfectly sums up the trail - and the Charter of the Forest - to me.

Ok, so there's one more knight worthy of mention as, following on from Lincoln City FC's remarkable 2016-17 season, they also put one together in red-and-white stripes.  Remembering some of Torquay's encounters with Lincoln in the past, a sword-wielding knight certainly wouldn't look too out of place in their defence, and although I'm not completely sure about the lipstick, there's no denying that the football club has been a source of great celebration here recently, which lends itself nicely to a trail celebrating the city's long and fascinating history.

Of course, there were several other knights all worthy of mention, but I'll leave you to see what you think of the rest, by visiting my Flickr album.  As for me - well, after a tiring day hiking around trying to spot them all, there's only one real choice of drink for the evening - A Knight's Ale, available from the Lincoln Castle shop.  You know it's going to be a good mix when an art trail meets with a good delve into English history - thanks Lincoln, always a pleasure.