Day 24: 'Twas The Night Before Christmas

My illustrated edition of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas was one of my favourite poems as a child, so I had to share it. The poem was written by Clement Clarke Moore in 1822 and also goes under the title A Visit from St. Nicholas. It has become a real tradition for many families, particularly in America, and depicts the Father Christmas that we know today. Interestingly Saint Nicholas had never been associated with reindeer or sleighs until Clement Clarke Moore's poem!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung 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 the 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 tinny reindeer.

With 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, 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!"

and now it's over and out from me until the New Year! Merry Christmas everyone x

Day 23: A Christmas Letter...

In the words of Charles Dickens, "it is good to be children sometimes, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child Himself." American novelist Mark Twain was clearly of the same school of thought as one year his young daughter Susie woke up on Christmas morning to this letter. It's not super short but you'll enjoy it I promise - it makes you feel all gooey and glowy inside and stuff.

Palace of St. Nicholas.In the Moon.

Christmas Morning. 

My dear Susie Clemens:

I have received and read all the letters which you and your little sister have written me by the hand of your mother and your nurses; I have also read those which you little people have written me with your own hands—for although you did not use any characters that are in grown peoples' alphabet, you used the characters that all children in all lands on earth and in the twinkling stars use; and as all my subjects in the moon are children and use no character but that, you will easily understand that I can read your and your baby sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things which you and the baby ordered in your own letters—I went down your chimney at midnight when you were asleep and delivered them all myself—and kissed both of you, too, because you are good children, well trained, nice mannered, and about the most obedient little people I ever saw. But in the letter which you dictated there were some words which I could not make out for certain, and one or two small orders which I could not fill because we ran out of stock. Our last lot of kitchen furniture for dolls has just gone to a very poor little child in the North Star away up, in the cold country above the Big Dipper. Your mama can show you that star and you will say: "Little Snow Flake," (for that is the child's name) "I'm glad you got that furniture, for you need it more than I." That is, you must write that, with your own hand, and Snow Flake will write you an answer. If you only spoke it she wouldn't hear you. Make your letter light and thin, for the distance is great and the postage very heavy.

There was a word or two in your mama's letter which I couldn't be certain of. I took it to be "trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to open the door. Then he must go back to the dining room or the china closet and take the cook with him. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak—otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not. If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to be. Your mama will help you to name a nice color and then you must tell me every single thing in detail which you want the trunk to contain.

Then when I say "Good bye and a merry Christmas to my little Susie Clemens," you must say "Good bye, good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much and please tell that little Snow Flake I will look at her star tonight and she must look down here—I will be right in the west bay window; and every fine night I will look at her star and say, 'I know somebody up there and like her, too.'" Then you must go down into the library and make George close all the doors that open into the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the hall—if it is a trunk you want—because I couldn't get such a thing as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know.

People may talk if they want, until they hear my footsteps in the hall. Then you tell them to keep quiet a little while till I go back up the chimney. Maybe you will not hear my footsteps at all—so you may go now and then and peep through the dining-room doors, and by and by you will see that thing which you want, right under the piano in the drawing room-for I shall put it there. If I should leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not use a broom, but a rag—else he will die someday. You must watch George and not let him run into danger. If my boot should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and somebody points to that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble, what will you say, little sweetheart?

Goodbye for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen door-bell.

Your loving 
Santa Claus

Whom people sometimes call "The Man in the Moon"

Day 22: What to watch?

This Christmas is going to be a quiet one for me. Just immediate family. No screaming children, no awkward conversations with the elderly, no bucket-loads of presents under the tree which will only be disappointing on Christmas day because only two of those are for you. One of the benefits of having a quiet Christmas though I feel is the fact that you can, largely, do whatever you want. What do I want to do? Get stuck into some Christmas TV. We've got Christmas Downton Abbey, a spot of Call the Midwife and a whole selection of literary adaptations ready for us to consume. Here are just a few to put into your diary for Christmas this year:

Christmas Eve:

8pm, Channel 4 - The Snowman and the Snowdog. So I've already gone on about this sequel to the Raymond Briggs classic for a whole blog post, but just a reminder - tune in!

Christmas Day:

8.20am, Channel 4 - Horton Wears a Who! What's Christmas without some Dr Seuss? Who cares about the Grinch, let's watch an adaptation of a book that I have no idea what it's about but has a wonderfully ambiguous title.

9am, Channel 5: Gone With the Wind - Now here's a book that epitomises the term 'brick'. In the modern world we live in now, film producers of the likes of Potter and Lord of the Rings have managed to condense the contents of some of the longer books on offer for the screen. It seems that in the earlier days of film - 1939 to be precise - this wasn't possible. Thus, we have Gone With the Wind - an absolute epic that lasts 238 minutes and will air from 9am to 1.15 on Christmas Day for your enjoyment.

4.35pm, BBC1 - Room on the Broom - This year, like the last five arguably, has been another stellar 365 days (366 given the leap year...) for diamond duo, Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler. To celebrate, BBC1 are showing the acclaimed Room on the Broom (which is now a stage production I have you know). The story from the creators of The Gruffalo follows a kind witch who invites a number of unusual guests to join her on her broom, but her cat isn't very happy about it. A top voice cast of British actors from Martin clunes and Gillian Anderson to Sally Hawkins and David Walliams, from Rob Brydon and Timothy Spall to Simon Pegg who narrates the tale from start to end.

7.30pm, BBC1 - Call the Midwife. If you're going to watch one program this Christmas (aside from Downton Abbey), then this is the one. I don't care if the fact that this was adapted from a seemingly unexciting misery memoir, this is totes emosh stuff that must be watched. Even Vanessa Redgrave thinks so, who narrates it, thus giving it its important additional credibility.

4.20pm, Watch - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. So I know everyone loves Johnny Depp and Tim Burton and that the recent version of Roald Dahl's classic is pretty good viewing, but nothing will beat the magic and fear conjured up by Gene Wilder in the 1971 adaptation.

27th December:

9pm, 27th December - Restless. It's 27th December and you're feeling 'restless' and despondent. Turkey curry is pretty tasty but it's just not going to make you feel any better about the fact that the day you have been preparing for for weeks has gone and all those cheering decorations in shop windows need to come down to be replaced by bright red 'sale' signs. Need to feel a bit better? Let's all make a pact that we will sit down and enjoy a William Boyd adaptation featuring an all star cast from Downton's Michelle Dockery to Hayley Atwell, star of last year's Boyd adaptation, Any Human Heart. Michael Gambon, Rufus Sewell and Charlotte Rampling turn up too in what promises to be a great two-part drama. I wish I could join you all but with Restless sitting on my wishlist, I'm desperately trying to stop myself tuning in before I read the novel. It shall be on record, though. Who am I kidding? It's not even New Year yet, I'll probably tune in too!

Day 21: Daddy, My Daddy!

I am finally officially on holiday and after the most awful week at work, it couldn't have come at a better time (except, maybe, two weeks early...). Anyway, my first day of the Christmas holidays means one thing - complete and utter laziness. As a result, you will have to put up with my appropriately lazy blog post. Following a long tiring day of watching four Christmassy films back to back and tackling a thousand-piece jigsaw, I was inspired to share one of the most classic scenes ever in British film. Even if you haven't seen the adaptation of the classic children's book The Railway Children you will know this scene. At least I hope you will because otherwise you'll both have the ending spoilt and more worryingly for me, the title of this post will seem extremely odd... you  better get watching then! Enjoy x

Day 20: Grimm's Fairy Tales

When I went to Cheltenham Literary Festival earlier this year, I went to see literary legend, Philip Pullman. He was there to talk about his latest book, his version of Grimm's Fairy Tales. I absolutely loved hearing from a writer that I followed so much as a child and even had the chance to ask him the question, why have fairy tales transformed from the horror of Grimm to the more quaint, Disneyfied children's stories of today?

For those of you who haven't read Grimm, you will understand what I mean when you do. Today marks the 200 years of the Grimm Brothers' Die Kinder und Hausmärchen (Children's and Household Tales), a collection of 86 stories that would shape and inform storytelling for centuries. At university even, I wrote my dissertation on the reasons behind and effects of modern reworkings of myth and fairy tales.

Although the likes of Angela Carter have formed adult interpretations that are, arguably, closer to the originals in tone, they have become more and more associated with children. Dare I say, they've even become 'Christmassy' with their traditional style and associations with family. Really, though, they are pretty grim (there was no way I was going to get through this entire post without using that terrible pun...). Being called 'Children's and Household Tales', though, meant that many changes were called for in the first volumes. It is thought the wicked stepmothers in stories such as Snow White and Hansel and Gretel were originally simply wicked mothers but it was thought to be inappropriate for children...

Here are some fairy tales, some Grimm, some not, that are not quite as sweet as Disney makes us believe:

Sleeping Beauty? Not kissed by a charming prince, but raped by the King. She then, still asleep, proceeds to give birth to TWO children.

In two different version of the Three Bears, Goldilocks either gets ripped apart and eaten or brutally breaks her neck in the process of fleeing the animals out the window.

Cinderella Grimm-stylee? The stepsisters proceed to chop off parts of their own feet so as to fool the prince by fitting into the slipper. The prince finds out though and punishment comes to the sisters in the form of two pigeons who peck out their eyes so that they live the rest of their lives as blind beggars... lovely!

The story that Philip Pullman talked about in his talk and is arguably the most gruesome: The Girl Without Hands - need I say more?

Day 19: It's a Wonderful Life

Last night (Day 19) my sister and I braved the falling snow torrential rain and got ourselves to the BFI on London's Southbank. By now I think you'll know I'm quite a fan of the Southbank, especially at Christmas with its festive stalls, happy people buying gifts here and there and the smell of mulled wine wafting down the street with the river. In this kind of weather, though, your best option is the BFI. This time we had tickets for the Christmas classic, It's a Wonderful Life.

All I can say is, it is not a flipping wonderful life - downright tearjerking, depressing, nightmare and downright not cheerful enough for Christmas! Sat with teary eyes, I started conjuring up a letter in my head that I would send to the culprit of giving me a false illusion as to what this film would entail. The BFI? The late Frank Capra, the film's director? The late James Stewart? Anyway, I start Googling to see just who was responsible and it turns out that originally It's A Wonderful Life was a short story called 'The Greatest Gift' by Philip Van Doren Stern.

This story, which to an extent can be described as a modern day A Christmas Carol, was first written in 1943. Unable to find a published, Philip Van Doren Stern printed a 21-page booklet and gave out copies to his friends and family as a gift for Christmas. Finally it was privately published in 1945 and caught the eye of RKO producer, David Hempstead and film star Cary Grant who was originally interested in the lead role of George Bailey. Eventually it was sold to Frank Capra's production company and writers Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett with Jo Swerling, Michael Wilson and Dorothy Parker worked to "polish" the script that would become the screenplay we all know: It's a Wonderful Life.

Despite being quite upset that the film was so sad in places, I really enjoyed it. I'd never seen it before and I can completely see now why it has received so much hype. Plus I've never seen such good 'film' snow. Top marks to the snow maker. Good work.

Day 18: Book Club: Great House

Shortlisted for the Orange Prize for Fiction 2011, Nicole Krauss's Great House is a haunting story that explores loss and memory.

In New York a woman spends the night with a young Chilean poet before he departs, leaving her at his desk. Later, he is arrested by Pinochet's secret police. . . In north London, a man caring for his dying wife discovers a lock of hair that unravels a terrible secret. . . In Jerusalem, an antiques dealer reassembles his father's study plundered by Nazis. One item remains missing. . .

Spanning continents and decades, weaving an intricate web of its characters' lives, Great House tells a soaring story of love, loss and survival against the odds.

On day 18 the book club met for the last time this year. I think it's fair to say opinion on Great House by Nicole Krauss was mixed... It was my turn to choose and after reading the blurb I thought that it sounded like a good story... That's what I was after, a story. As a result, my experience of the opening chapter (a very long chapter at that) was a struggle. I wasn't warming to the first character in what would become a series of monologues, she was a tortured poet so her narrative voice was just a bit literary for my liking and all this wasn't helped by the fact I couldn't breathe, my eyes were watering and my throat was burning...

Once I got through this slightly slow start and I started on a chapter where a father was frustratingly trying to get through to his estranged son, I started to get into it. The relationships kept me interested for the most part and the void i had been left with at the end of Ghostwritten where none of the ties seemed to satisfyingly link, was fulfilled step by step in Krauss' narrative.

My problems with the book were firstly its structure. I felt I had to put quite a lot of effort into each chapter and then suddenly it would finish and we would be on to a brand new character and start all over again. I also found the writing, in places, was a little self righteous and, as I Sao before, a little too literary - like it was trying to do more than tell the story. I can't really be doing with that.

Overall though, the thread established in the blurb kept me gripped to the end even if there were parts of the book I didn't quite appreciate...

The book received a 2, 4, 6.5 and another 6.5 from me.

Day 17: A Literary Christmas Poll

Stylist Magazine, the wonderfully free weekly women's magazine available across the UK, recently drew up their list of the 50 best Christmas books. There are some really good ones down there, from Children's to age old classics to modern day reads, and some that you might not immediately think of as Christmassy! I don't know if I could pick my favourite from 50 but perhaps we could from 5? I've selected a few so let me know which festive read you enjoyed most!

Which of these Christmas favourites would you choose?
	A Christmas Carol Charles Dickens
	The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe CS Lewis
	How the Grinch Stole Christmas Dr Seuss
	The Snowman Raymond Briggs
	Little Women Louisa May Alcott
pollcode.com free polls

Day 16: Christmas at Bateman's

My friend and I decided that every year, instead of spending money on a Christmas present for each other, we would organise a fully Christmassy day out for the both of us instead. Last year took us to see Meet Me in St Louis at the BFI, a mulled wine on the Southbank and a Christmas themed afternoon tea. This year, both equipped with our National Trust memberships (and probably a zimmer frame as we are clearly more grannies than 23 year-olds), we headed out to Bateman's in East Sussex.

This beautiful red-brick Jacobean house was home to short-story writer, poet and novelist, Rudyard Kipling, and his wife Carrie. It feels like a proper family home so when I came across Kipling's daughter's extremely comfy armchair sat alongside a charming and well-stocked bookshelf, I couldn't help but sit down... We were told that Kipling's daughter Elise demanded her own furniture when she became older as she believed her parents knew nothing of real comfort!

Rudyard Kipling was born in Bombay in British India in 1865. Although he moved back to England with his family when he was just five years old, he would continue to travel and the distant shores of India stuck with him and would later inform much of his writing, including his arguably most famous novel, The Jungle Book. The house itself maintains a strong relationship with the East through Kipling's artefacts and oriental rugs.

Sadly, despite his extraordinary travels and loyal wife, Kipling's life was laced with tragedy. His first born child, Josephine, died from pneumonia as a child and his son, John, was killed in the First World War.  It is said that when Kipling was grieving for his son, he read aloud the novels of Jane Austen to his wife and youngest daughter, Elise.

On a more positive note, we couldn't have picked a more beautiful day - crisp cold with bright blue skies. Plus, during the festive period, the National Trust decks out Kipling's beautiful home in all its Christmassy glory. We were welcomed by a lovely group of carol singers in the entrance hall, framed by holly, candles and a grand Christmas tree. The dining room was all ready for an Edwardian Christmas dinner, stockings hung expectantly from the fireplace in the living room, decorations hung from the traditional oak beams and the mill at the bottom of the gardens was transformed into an adorable elves workshop that we the children were going mad for. The house's mullioned windows overlooked the extensive gardens, with their water features, aligned trees, greenhouses and through-running river,  and out onto the surrounding meadows of the Sussex Weald. The whole experience was just so HAPPY and I would recommend it to anyone.

Day 15: Literary Christmas Cards

So maybe you don't send Christmas cards, maybe you do. Maybe you should have sent cards but didn't. Maybe you would send Christmas cards if you knew when to stop and didn't end up every time having to stamp hundreds and hundreds of cards to people you would definitely not be in touch with any other time of year. Everyone has their own stance but in my view, I wish I bought more Christmas cards.

They look pretty, they're fun to browse and they are representative of that traditional form of communication (gotta love a bit of trad at Xmas) that I tend to be a big fan of on this blog: writing. I'm not saying we have to get all lyrical or write a short story or to each of our relatives but there's something nice about putting pen to paper rather than sending an e-card, a rushed facebook message or one of those generic texts that goes out to your entire phonebook on Christmas day because you thought they would just love to receive an unpersonalised reminder that yes, it is Christmas day and yup, we haven't spoken since you sent this exact same text last Christmas...

Anyway, I'm definitely not a Scrooge, I love Christmas and here are a few of my favourite cards that I've seen this year, although I've tried to keep it mostly literary themed...

Bookish Tree Christmas Card - £3

Buy


Bah Humbug... Christmas Card - £3.25
Buy

 
Paperchase is nearly always my go-to place for cards. I'm a particular fan of their fluffy reindeer, fat robin and beautiful Rob-Ryan-esque cut-out cards! I'm just sneaking these in... I'm sure there's something literary about them... isn't their a robin in Secret Garden? There we go.
Buy

'small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast' - The Comedy of Errors.

£4 - Shakespeare's Globe. Buy

Ok so I told you not to start writing poems to all your friends and family but that didn't mean you can't let Carol Ann Duffy do it for you. This card is part of the 'Poetry instead of a card' project at the Literary Gift Company. Each card has a theme and this is Christmas.

Buy

Day 14: Christmas at Hogwarts

Christmas is one of those occasions that can be the happiest time of the year for some, and the saddest for others who have no one to share it with. That seems a bit depressing and serious for a Christmas blog post but I do think it's important to remember. For me, one of my favourite Christmas passages in a book is in an extremely well-known children's novel  (you've probably guessed it already if my hugely original title is anything to go by...) but it doesn't actually reference Christmas at all. When I first read it, though, I think it was the first time that I, as the particularly naive child that I was, realised that Christmas wasn't necessarily fun for everyone...

“She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes -- her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just like Harry's did.
Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.
"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"
They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry's knobbly knees -- Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life.
The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside of him, half joy, half terrible sadness.”

~ Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

So that was probably my cheesiest post yet, sorry. That probably should have come with a cheese warning for those of your with literary lactose intolerance, but Christmas is definitely a time for cheese... But it was a bit sad... for which I also apologise, so I think I'll finish with a slightly more cheerful, if brief, quote that comes just a few pages on and a video.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Day 13: Coutts do Christmas

Every morning I walk myself from Charing Cross Station to where I work in Holborn. I could get the tube, I could get the bus, but I like walking and it lets me pass some of the very best sites in London every day. I take a glimpse of Trafalgar Square, St Martin's in the Fields, walk past the building where Dickens' blacking factory used to stand, stroll through Covent Garden and take in its lights, the tree, the huge reindeer and the freakishly giant baubles. I amble through Lincoln's Inn fields and Chancery Lane. I do all this but it all starts outside Coutts' window.

Coutts is one of those super posh banks where you have to have a lot of money just to walk in the door. I have had meetings in rented out conference rooms in the building and each time I walk in I worry I'm about to be walked straight out again for wearing jeans with a very distinct pasta splodge on my top from my far from glamourous lunch... BUT, and I'm sure all Coutts members just love how their money is so wisely spent, Coutts' famous window display is nearly always great.

The window changes several times a year and normally advertises a particular charity, important awards events or some important people that we probably should know but don't. Whatever the cause, the display is normally pretty stellar but no more so than at Christmas. Last year's Rob Ryan design above is a fantastic example. This year, though, it's gone all literary so you can imagine I got pretty excited. Pretty rare for that time in the morning. It features a large old golden book, lying open as Christmassy words from some of the great writers jump out in gold from its centre. Top stuff so take a look if you're next on the Strand at the Coutts building, directly opposite Charing Cross Station.

Day 12: The Dark Earth and the Light Sky

"Or must I be content with discontent

As larks and swallows are perhaps with wings?"

The Glory, Edward Thomas

Deep in the Hampshire countryside Edward Thomas scrapes a living; disaffected husband, exhausted father and tormented writer. Then in 1913 he meets American poet Robert Frost and everything changes. As their friendship blossoms Edward writes, emerging from his cocoon of self-doubt into one of the most influential poets of the twentieth century.

On the verge of success he makes the drastic decision to enlist, confounding his friends and family. The Dark Earth and the Light Sky delves into the life of this enigmatic and complex character in an era of change and destruction.

Last night I went along to the Almeida Theatre in Islington to see Nick Dear's The Dark Earth and the Light Sky. When I looked up the description of the play I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. On the one side I thought it might simply be a dramatic biopic, capturing chronologically the short life of Edward Thomas, and showing the ways in which Robert Frost inspired his writing. Then my experience kicked in and thought that so many playwrights can't seem to resist doing something 'clever' or 'artistic' that will in their view in someway get across some kind of deeper meaning.

Ok, so you've probably gathered that I'm not a particularly sophisticated theatre goer, although that doesn't mean I'm not enthusiastic about it. I love the ice cream... the programmes... the merchandise... (damn, knew I should have got that Viva Forever mug...). No, seriously, I love the theatre and even better when you come out and you feel that tiny bit more intelligent... (ok, maybe not with Viva Forever).

I enjoyed this play although I don't feel it was either a biopic nor an overly complex artistic portrayal of Thomas' life. It was very simple, which I appreciated; small cast, clear plot and clever staging. I'm also intrigued by Thomas as a war poet who didn't actually write a poem explicitly about war!

Nick Dear is no stranger to staging literary giants (Frankenstein, Byron, Persuasion, Iris...the list goes on) so it was always going to be good, wasn't it? Plus, I'm a sucker for war stories, I'm half Welsh and an English Lit graduate, and I always love a good biopic.

It's always important to say the acting was spot, although I wouldn't say I particularly liked any of the characters... but they are real people, so it's not like you can just make one of them really romantic or the other really funny if they weren't... Saying that, the humour was great in this. What is ultimately a very sad story was heightened by the carefully placed humour that, as I always say, the Brits do particularly well I think.

My only disappointments really were, firstly, for me, it could have ended at several points in the final half hour. Secondly, I just feel that something was slightly missing... which is harsh to say when I can't put my finger on what. I know it wasn't a history lesson but I don't feel I learnt all that much and I don't feel I invested in a character.

Overall, though, it was a really enjoyable evening and I would recommend going to see it, even if it's just a good excuse to go to a small theatre and witness a great cast take on a literary great that was almost forgotten. 

Day 11: Christmas Bookshelves...

Everybody knows that person who despite being an adult with adult responsibilities would really rather live in a house where it is Christmas all year round. Well, to those people, you need one of these spectacularly festive bookshelves to go with your flashing reindeer noses and the life-size Santa on your roof.

Last year, I have been informed, Gleeson Library of San Francisco, California, decided that librarians really are some of the more awesome people on the planet when they realised that the real purpose for all their books at this time of year (only the green ones - potentially discriminatory?) was to build a ginormous Christmas tree. 3,000 books, two hours, 3 librarians and voila!

If that just all looks a bit precarious to you and your OCD couldn't quite take it, then why not invest in some equally useless but far tidier and Scandinavian looking bookshelves: I personally love the way they have tried to squish that book-shaped looking gift into this shelf and completely failed. They told themselves it looks visually more exciting to play with angles in this image, but it just demonstrates that the only reason to buy this shelf system is if you love Christmas too much.

So this is my favourite of them all in my opinion. It's just so pretty! that might be, though, that this is a professional piece of artwork. It is Last Christmas by Bert Houbert (2008) and I think should be appropriated by any child still living at home. Just so that when a parent walks into their room and screams  'pig sty!', 'a bomb's hit it!' or some other form of unfair term for organised chaos, the child can say that it is ART and thus should not be touched.

It would be appropriate that Form, a contemporary design and branding company in the UK, should produce this alternative tree created back in 2007 I believe. This is one of those times (perhaps not as often for you normal people) when you hope that your webcam isn't on as any unsuspecting viewer would see your face scrunched right up close to the screen to see just what this tree is made of.

I don't quite understand the goose either.

Day 10: Little Women do Christmas

One of my favourite films to watch at Christmas has got to be Little Women. Louisa May Alcott's original book captures Christmas over several years in her protagonists' lives and each one has a different tone. Books feature pretty heavily in the novel as well as Josephine 'Jo' March, the second eldest, is said to be in love with literature - both reading and writing.  I wanted to share this lovely passage from the novel that captures one particular Christmas and conveniently just happens to mention some books...

Jo was the first to wake in the gray dawn of Christmas morning. No stockings hung at the fireplace, and for a moment she felt as much disappointed as she did long ago, when her little sock fell down because it was so crammed with goodies. Then she remembered her mother's promise, and slipping her hand under her pillow, drew out a little crimson-covered book. She knew it very well, for it was that beautiful old story of the best life ever lived, and Jo felt that it was a true guide-book for any pilgrim going the long journey. She woke Meg with a "Merry Christmas", and bade her see what was under her pillow. A green-covered book appeared, with the same picture inside, and a few words written by their mother, which made their one present very precious in their eyes. Presently Beth and Amy rummage and find their little books also, one dove-colored, the other blue; and all sat looking at and talking about them,. while the East grew rosy with the coming day.

Day 9: The Snowman (and the Snowdog)

When you look back down Nostalgia Way, peering through those foggy windows to the past, I'll bet you remembered at least one book that you absolutely loved being read to you. I can think of loads - my mum snapping the book like a giant wolf's mouth at my grinning face in What's the Time Mr Wolf?, reenacting No Jumping on the Bed and being completely in awe of The Wish Factory. The list goes on but I can tell you one thing they all had in common, my parents absolutely loved them. That, in my view, is the key to a successful book for young children - the parent has to enjoy it too on their own adult level. And that goes for films as well. (By adult level I don't mean porn by the way... just to set that straight after my slight concern on reading that back. I'm not about to be the one who is seen to say let's introduce Page 3 to the kiddies... Ok, I'm going to stop digging a hole for myself now.)

Anyway Raymond Briggs' Father Christmas (1973), which came out every Christmas in book form and the video in our house, was no exception to the parent rule. "Another bloomin' Christmas" was Santa's saying and the whole story managed to tickle my parents year on year and continues to make me smile now.

Briggs most famous story though is, of course, The Snowman. Published in 1978, this wordless picture book has captured the hearts of children and parents alike for decades. In 1982 it inspired Britain's Channel 4 to adapt it into a 26 minute wordless classic accompanied by its famous theme song, Walking in the Air. This adaptation went on to be nominated for an Academy Award and has been credited by many industry professionals as one of the best films ever made.

Every year The Snowman continues to draw in audiences all over the world. Its stage adaptation in London sold out this year way in advance (yes, so I may have tried to get tickets. shh) but don't worry if any of you were disappointed. After thirty years since the release of the short film, Channel 4 have announced that this Christmas Eve they will be broadcasting the original film followed by a brand new sequel called The Snowman and the Snowdog.

The new film will be set thirty years on from the original and follows another boy who, while mourning the death of his dog one snowy day, he comes across an old scarf with snowmen printed on it, left behind by another child long ago...! Subsequently he goes outside and begins to build a snowman and a snowdog for his companion. Sounds adorable and we know it's going to be 'super' because Raymond Briggs himself said so. So there. Don't miss it.