Gifts that Cause a lot of Noise and Mess...

“When Prudence Kitson asked her father what he would like for Christmas, he sighed and said, ‘A husband for your sister.’ So begins The Thirteen Days of Christmas, by Jenny Overton, which is one of the most delightful children’s books you could wish to read, and deserves to be more widely known.

The sister is Annaple, who was christened plain Anne, but has romantic ideas, so changed her name. She’s cared for the family since their mother died, but is a terrible cook and, surprisingly for someone who is so imaginative, very bossy about things like tidying the house, keeping clothes clean and making the beds. Wealthy merchant Francis Vere is hopelessly in love with Annaple, but she won’t marry him, so the family help him dream up some unconventional gifts in a bid to gain her heart.

Things start simply, with a partridge in a pear tree. On the second day of Christmas two turtle doves arrive, which isn’t too bad, even though they’re accompanied by another partridge in a pear tree, but as the Christmas season progresses the presents become more problematic, not just for Annaple and her family, but for the entire town. Soon the house is packed with drummers, pipers, leaping lords, milkmaids and their cows, dancing ladies, swans, geese (and the goose girls) and various other birds, all demanding to be fed, all needing somewhere to sleep – and all making the most terrible noise, and creating a terrible mess.

To add to the chaos, each morning crowds gather outside the Kitsons’ home, waiting to see what the day’s present will be...

As you can see, the story is an imaginative interpretation of a well-known song, and it also includes long forgotten carols, and fascinating details of the ancient customs and activities which took place on the various days of Christmas, right the way though to January 6. My battered Puffin edition (published in 1972) contains fabulous illustrations by Shirley Hughes, and from these it’s obvious that the tale takes place in Stuart times – pre-civil war, perhaps, judging from the style of clothes, but this is never specified.

Minced Pyes

I love reading old recipes – or receipts as they were once called – so here’s a seasonal one to celebrate Day Four of the Advent Bookfest. It’s from The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight Opened, which was published in the 17^th century and also includes wonderful instructions for making alcoholic drinks like metheglin, 'sider' and cherry-wine.

"Another Way of Making Excellent Minced Pyes of my Lady Portlands

Parboil Neats-tongues. Then Peel and hash them with as much as they weigh of Beef-suet, and stoned Raisins and picked Currants. Chop all exceeding small, that it be like Pap. Employ therein at least an hour more, then ordinarily is used. Then mingle a very little Sugar with them, and a little wine, and thrust in up and down some thin slices of green Candyed Citron-peel. And put this into coffins of fine light well reared crust. Half an hour baking will be enough. If you strew a few Carvi comfits on the top, it will not be amiss."

 I think Carvi comfits were sugared caraway seeds and, in case you’re wondering, neats’ tongues were calves tongues, and all I can say is that progress is a wonderful thing and modern mince pies, with their filling of dried fruits and alcohol, sound far tastier than this!

Sir Kenelm Digby was the son of Everard Digby, who was executed for his part in the Gunpowder Plot. Kenelm, a scientist and philosopher, seems to have been a very colourful character, who moved in royal circles and knew the great and the good of his day. This particular book is thought to have been produced in 1669, after his death, by a servant, and it comes to you courtesy of  Project Gutenberg (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/16441/16441-h/16441-h.htm#Page_111). 

Carols and Mulled Ale

For Day Three of the Advent Bookfest I couldn’t resist the carol singing field-mice in Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows. Ratty and Mole are returning to River Bank after Badger has rescued them from the Wild Wood, when Mole hears his old home calling him, so they head there instead. They hear scuffling and voices outside.

“It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when they flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a horn lantern, some eight or ten little fieldmice stood in a semicircle, red worsted comforters round their throats, their fore-paws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet jigging for warmth. With bright beady eyes they glanced shyly at each other, sniggering a little, sniffing and applying coat-sleeves a good deal. As the door opened, one of the elder ones that carried the lantern was just saying, 'Now then, one, two, three!' and forthwith their shrill little voices uprose on the air, singing one of the old-time carols that their forefathers composed in fields that were fallow and held by frost, or when snow-bound in chimney corners, and handed down to be sung in the miry street to lamp-lit windows at Yule-time.”

A mouse is dispatched to buy provisions for a festive feast for all, while The Rat supervises the making of mulled ale.

“It did not take long to prepare the brew and thrust the tin heater well into the red heart of the fire; and soon every field-mouse was sipping and coughing and choking (for a little mulled ale goes a long way) and wiping his eyes and laughing and forgetting he had ever been cold in all his life.”

From Dulce Domum, (chapter 5), The Wind in the Willows, by Kenneth Grahame. By the way, if you haven’t read this, you can download it, free, from Project Gutenberg, at http://www.gutenberg.org/files/289/289-h/289-h.htm, although, sadly, EH Shepard’s illustrations are not included.    

Stitching a Picture of the Past

Day Two in my Advent Bookfest reminds me of my own childhood although, I hasten to add, I am younger than the author. At the end of December 1999 Jean Baggott decided to mark the Millennium by celebrating ‘the girl on the wall’ – the young girl she was once was. Reflecting on a photo of  herself taken in 1948, when she was 11, she determined to fulfill her early dreams and ambitions, and set about gaining the education she was denied all those years ago, eventually studying for a history degree. 


In addition she created a cross stitch tapestry of her life in the Midlands and the changing world around her. Based on a ceiling at Burghley House, it has 73 interlocking circles, and the short pieces she wrote explaining its symbolism grew into a book, The Girl on the Wall, One Life’s Rich Tapestry, which is a series of interlocking memories and comments. It’s a gentle stroll though past and present, which may be nostalgic in places, but is never dismissive about the modern age. Jean’s  love of life always shines through – as does her willingness to embrace changes and grasp what life can offer. Circle 14 recalls her childhood Christmases, describing  the preparations:  

“With great enthusiasm we would get the festivities under way by spending an evening making paper chains and getting out the weary old Christmas tree, its baubles and other relics,  a couple of Chinese paper lanterns, two large bells and a ball that opened up like a concertina.”  

We always had a real tree, but my brother and I spent days making paper chains in the run-up to the big day, and I remember opening up Chinese paper lanterns. And here's Jean’s on that magical moment when stockings and presents were discovered:

“On Christmas morning we were always awake well before dawn. ‘Santa’ would have left our goods at the foot of our beds and our socks, filled with an orange, an apple, some chocolate and nuts and a few bright new pennies, would be placed over our bedposts. With feverish excitement we would go through our respective piles of goodies. We quickly became frozen to the marrow and would have to leap back into one of the beds, curl up together and wait until our teeth stopped chattering.” 

The Girl on the Wall, One Life’s Rich Tapestry, by Jean Baggott, is published by Icon Books.

Be Nice to your Turkeys this Christmas...

It’s December and Christmas is on the way, so I’ve decided to celebrate with an Advent Bookfest, which will include poems, readings, diary entries, a bit of general information about the season, the odd recipe or two and, perhaps, some reviews!

First off is Benjamin Zephaniah’s Talking Turkeys!, which is one of my favourite poems – and not just because I’m vegetarian. Written originally for children, it’s a fun poem, which always makes me laugh, but there’s underlying edge there about animal cruelty, and the ethics of eating meat, as well as the real meaning of Christmas and the commercialisation that surrounds it. I also see this poem as a plea for us to accept people for what they are, and not to condemn those who are ‘different’ .

I like Zephaniah because he shows that poetry doesn’t have to be ‘posh’ or full of high-flown language, and that it’s not something to be treated reverentially. Instead he makes it very accessible, writing about issues like racism and social justice in his own inimitable style.

Anyway, without more ado, here is the poem – I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas
Cos' turkeys just wanna hav fun
Turkeys are cool, turkeys are wicked
An every turkey has a Mum.
Be nice to yu turkeys dis christmas,
Don't eat it, keep it alive,
It could be yu mate, an not on your plate
Say, Yo! Turkey I'm on your side.
I got lots of friends who are turkeys
An all of dem fear christmas time,
Dey wanna enjoy it, dey say humans destroyed it
An humans are out of dere mind,
Yeah, I got lots of friends who are turkeys
Dey all hav a right to a life,
Not to be caged up an genetically made up
By any farmer an his wife.

Turkeys just wanna play reggae
Turkeys just wanna hip-hop
Can yu imagine a nice young turkey saying,
“I cannot wait for de chop”,
Turkeys like getting presents, dey wanna watch christmas TV,
Turkeys hav brains an turkeys feel pain
In many ways like yu an me.

I once knew a turkey called........ Turkey
He said "Benji explain to me please,
Who put de turkey in christmas
An what happens to christmas trees?",
I said "I am not too sure turkey
But it’s nothing to do wid Christ Mass
Humans get greedy an waste more dan need be
An business men mek loadsa cash.”

Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
Invite dem indoors fe sum greens
Let dem eat cake an let dem partake
In a plate of organic grown beans,
Be nice to yu turkey dis christmas
An spare dem de cut of de knife,
Join Turkeys United an dey'll be delighted
An yu will mek new friends 'FOR LIFE'. 

Talking Turkeys! Is from From Talking Turkeys, published  by Puffin Books. If you’ve never read of  Benjamin Zephaniah ‘s poetry you’ll find samples of his work, alongside details about him, at http://www.benjaminzephaniah

Photo of  Benjamin Zephaniah by David Morris, reproduced under Creative Commons Licence.