Some Christmas nonsense.

 After yesterday’s all-day rain, today we’ve had bright, crisp sunshine. If it stays clear we’ll have a cold night I should think. As it is we’ve had a rather fine sunset sky.

Here’s a linguist’s view of Christmas spirits, sent to me by my Italian friend. You have to have taught or at least studied complicated grammar to really get the joke. 

Granddaughter Number Two and I spent some time, not too much time, selecting suitable Christmas presents for various members of the family. Here’s a cartoon about unromantic christmas gifts. 

Skimming through odds and ends of news online yesterday after Granddaughter Number Two and I had returned from rainy Manchester, I came across the headline “A potato is for life, not just for Christmas” at the start of an article by Emma Beddington. This led me to a photo of a potato shaped flask.

Apparently it’s a late-18th-century Staffordshire pottery flask – intended to be filled with strong drink and used to toast a safe journey for a traveller – shaped like a very realistic, knobbly spud, complete with green bits. It has been donated to the Nairn Museum. The benefactor who donated the flask apparently explained it was so ugly that no one in his family wanted to inherit it.

The article also led me to the potato wall calendar. Calendars are frequently given as Christmas gifts. This one features different photos of potatoes for each month of the year. Originally priced at £38.84, it is now available for the bargain price of £29.13. I don’t think there will be a rush to buy them but you never know. 

Many workplaces are having their Christmas socials, complete with Secret Santa gifts. This never used to happen when I was in full time work, for which I am quite grateful. Nowadays it is almost obligatory to give presents to just about everyone. As a primary school teacher our daughter has amassed a range of ‘best teacher in world’ coffee mugs, not to mention bottles of wine that she never drinks. Here’s a link to an article about Secret Santa gifts going horribly wrong. Another reason to have nothing to do with the idea! 

Another Christmas staple is crackers - another source of Christmas gifts nobody really wants unless you do really expensive personalised Christmas crackers. However, the children do enjoy pulling crackers so I need to acquire some before the southern branch of the family (our son and family) arrives at the weekend. Here is a selection bad Christmas cracker jokes: 

1. Why is Prince Andrew not writing any Christmas books? He hasn’t got any titles.
2. Which pop star carves her own wooden nativity scene? Sabrina Carpenter.
3. What is a French burglar’s favourite Christmas film? Louvre, Actually.
4. Why won’t Angela Rayner get any Christmas presents this year? Santa can’t decide which address to deliver to.
5. Where has Santa been more than Nigel Farage? His house in Clacton.

That’s enough nonsense. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Christmas Traditions - in our family. And a bit of family nostalgia.

This morning I got up early so that my daughter could collect me and take me to a tram station with Granddaughter Number Two. For the last few years we have made it a tradition to go into Manchester together and do some Christmas shopping. The first time we did it we trawled round the Christmas markets, which still had some variety of content back then. We found some nice things. This year we didn’t look at the Christmas market stalls at all. At a first glance they seem to be more about selling sweets and food and drink than anything else. But maybe I am doing them a disservice.

Anyway, Granddaughter Number Two and I are dropped off a tram station near my daughter’s school at an ungodly hour of the morning, when it’s still almost dark, only barely officially sunrise, and too early for me to have free travel on the buses and trams with my old lady bus pass. We go into Manchester and have breakfast in a cafe while we wait for the stores to open. Then we hit the shops!

This year we have been efficient and went armed with lists of stuff we wanted to look for. It worked, more or less. I seem to have managed to get most things off my list. Now I need to finish wrapping. And at some point I need to plan menus so I can do the food shopping!! 

Nostalgia is a strange thing. Granddaughter Number Two and I reminisced about various episodes from her childhood. At 22 she already quite a difference between her own early childhood and that of her younger siblings.

Then there is Granddaughter Number One, who lived for some time in our house with her mother in her early childhood. At that time I would play Spanish songs in the kitchen and the small girl would sing along, usually not understanding a word but sounding good. At some point yesterday evening she sent me a message asking about “that song about the bird who tried to fly in the sea”. She thought it might have been sung by Ana Belén. I found it: La Paloma by the poet Rafael Alberti and sung by various artists: Joan Manuel Serrat, Rosa León, Ana Belén, among others, but these are singers I used to play to her. It’s amazing what the memory throws up.

Here’s the poem Rafael Alberti:

Se equivocó la paloma.

Se equivocaba.

 

Por ir al Norte fue al Sur.

Creyó que el trigo era agua.

Se equivocaba.

 

Creyó que el mar era el cielo;

que la noche, la mañana.

Se equivocaba.

Se equivocaba.

 

Que las estrellas, rocío;

que la calor, la nevada.

Se equivocaba.

Se equivocaba.

 

Que tu falda era tu blusa;

que tu corazón, su casa.

Se equivocaba.

Se equivocaba.

 

Ella se durmió en la orilla.

Tú, en la cumbre de una rama.

 

Se equivocó la paloma.

Se equivocaba.

 

And here is an English version, not my own translation:

The Dove (English)

The dove was wrong.

She was mistaken.

 

To travel north she flew south,

Believing the wheat was water.

She was mistaken.

 

Believing the sea was sky,

That the night was dawn.

She was mistaken.

 

That the stars were dew,

That the heat was snowfall.

She was mistaken.

 

Your skirt your blouse,

Your heart your home.

She was mistaken.

 

(She fell asleep on the shore,

You at the tip of a branch.)

And here, I hope, is a link to a YouTube clip of Ana Belén singing it.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Wind and rain. Crazy people with guns. Selfish people benefitting from the misfortunes of others. And snow.

 We’re back to dull and damp again today. It was mildly drizzly when I went out first thing but later when I took my recycling out to the relevant bins it was properly raining. Our daughter has reported from a social event in nearby Moorside where she tells me it is “chucking it down and blowing a hooley” - whatever that last expression really means. Moorside is, however, one of the highest spots in the town and if the weather is going to be bad it will be much worse up there! 

It’s a good job I know some nice people, for if I relied on news reports I could be convinced that the world is a truly wicked place. They’ve had a shooting at a Hanukah party Bondi beach in New South Wales, Australia, and on the other side of the world at Brown University, Rhode Island, USA, a gunman went and shot students taking their exams. 

Two students at Brown University had already witnessed or indeed been victims at school shootings in the past. One of them, Zoe Weissman, 20,  expressed her anger: “What I’ve been feeling most is just, like, how dare this country allow this to happen to someone like me twice?”

Maybe her country should have done something to prevent this sort of thing long ago. 

It’s quite likely though that the gun manufacturers are quite happy to continue with the status quo, making money out of others’ misfortunes. That seems to be happening with the planned reconstruction of Gaza. Here’s a link to an article about US contractors bidding for the right to rebuild. Imagine putting in a bid for building work in a place on the other side of the world!  And while shelling and shooting continue to take place, it’s hard to imagine reconstruction work taking place at all, even in the places where Israel will allow it happen.

Here’s a photo of Saddleworth in the winter of 1947. I have heard people talk about that winter, almost mythical now, not just here but in other parts of the country. 

That winter was before our time but when we first came to live in Saddleworth in the mid 1970s we had heavy snowfall such as rarely happens nowadays - not quite 1947 levels though. We were snowed in, unable to get the car out of its garage and the snow lay on the ground for days. Now, even when we have heavy snowfall,  it doesn’t hang around, usually disappearing almost overnight. Climate change, no doubt!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

A rather busy Saturday.

Today I got up and walked to Uppermill before breakfast, watching the sun come up as I walked up the hill to Dobcross and down the other side. 

I needed to collect a prescription from the chemist in Uppermill and decided I could kill several birds with one stone. I still had no Christmas tree and next Thursday or Friday our son and his family will arrive for a pre-Christmas visit. It has become a tradition that the family elves, aka the three youngest grandchildren, decorate the tree for me. This could not happen of I had no tree. Half way up the hill to Dobcross is a sort of mini garden centre which usually has trees, often the small size, preferably rooted, type that I prefer. But they had no trees at all.

I continued on my way and spotted one of our local herons in the river.

Having collected my prescription, I moved on to my next objective: the search for good bread. So I bought a rye loaf from thenItalian green grocery and a wholemeal loaf from the local bakery. Now I need to see if either or both will prove satisfactory! 

And so, home on the bus in time for a late breakfast before Granddaughter Number Two, a grown-up responsible 22, brought Granddaughter Number Four, a creative 9 year old with a craft project in mind. When they arrived, however, we changed plans and the three of us set off to catch a bus to Oldham, to see if we could find me a small tree at Sainsbury’s. 

We stopped briefly at Oldham Library, nowadays more than a library: a sort of museum, art gallery, gift shop. As well as display of ancient shoes and clogs, a classic car, handmade jewellery and birthday cards, we admired a crocheted Christmas tree. It’s amazing what you can crochet. I hope that it can be remodelled after Christmas and turned into a useful blanket for someone. 

Progressing to Sainsbury’s, we successfully bought a scrawny little tree, the perfect size for the corner of our living room. The across-the-road neighbours have a huge tree which fills the whole of their double window but if we had a tree anywhere close to that size there would be no room for all the people who will congregate over Christmas to sit, let alone open presents.

Granddaughter Number Four and I worked at her craft project, making gifts to her design for her mother and her sisters.

A successful day on the whole.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.

Sunshine after drizzle. Being efficient. Sunset skies. Environmental suff. And flooded tents in Gaza.

I got up, albeit rather reluctantly, and ran round the village this morning. It didn’t exactly rain on me but there was constant drizzle. The weather promised to improve later in the day.

In the early afternoon I caught a bus to the supermarket. I was quite efficient: made a list and whizzed round collecting items off the list, resisting the temptation to add too many extra items. About 30 minutes after entering the supermarket I was back at the bus stop, waiting for a bus which was about five minuted late - not too bad for our local bus service!

Phil had assured me he would be ready to go for a walk when I got back. Not so! The sun was shining nicely by now so I was chivying him along to get organised. While I waited, the sun went over the hill. It sets very early here at the best of times and even more so in December. We strolled out anyway and caught some fine sunset colours in the sky.

On our way back I noticed a pile of rubbish where a nearby house has been having some renovation work done. It seems they sent away their skip a little too soon. Hopefully the remaining rubbish will be removed. Here is a link to an article about the Environment Agency planning to spend money to clear an illegal dump in Oxfordshire. 

This is causing some controversy in Bickershaw, Wigan, in the Northwest of England, because they too have illegal rubbish dumped in residential areas. Their MP is more than a little angry about perceived favouritism.

Also on the environment, here’s a link to an article about otters which have been slowly increasing their numbers as rivers have become cleaner. There’s some lovely video footage of an otter and a fox strolling through the night time streets of Lincoln city centre. Their numbers increase slowly because they do not produce many young in one litter and cRe for them for a good year. Fishermen are not happy about their increased numbers because they claim the otters eat the fish. Environmentalists argue that otters do not eat the big fish that anglers seek. So it goes!

While we moan from time to time about the rain, and rivers overflowing, and muddy puddles everywhere, despite our beautiful sunsets, in Gaza rainy weather is causing more devastation.

“Floods have submerged a tent city in Deir al-Balah. According to UN figures, at least 465 households (2,731 people) living in 260 tents were affected on Wednesday. Aid workers said the number of families washed out of their tents continued to rise as the week went on. Despite the declaration of a ceasefire in October, Israeli forces carry out sporadic strikes and impose restrictions on aid supplies, severely limiting the availability of equipment urgently needed to protect people from the flood waters and the cold. Israel denies limiting aid, blaming the aid organisations for inefficiency in its distribution.”

It’s not over!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Sunshine. Soup. Plastic. Sleep.

 It’s another fine, bright December day with 0% chance of rain forecast. So I began the day with a run round the village. I’m not quite so organised as one of the neighbours who had her washing out on the line by 9.00 this morning. By the time I had done my washing I decided it was not worth hanging it out to dry as I would bring it in again a few hours later, still very damp, not to say wet! Perhaps another day I’ll be more organised.

I have, however, wrapped some more Christmas presents and chopped vegetables to make soup. This is definitely a soupy time of year. I have plastic boxes ready to put said soup into the freezer once prepared and cooled down. 

It’s difficult nowadays to imagine a world without plastic. Who knew, when it was first put out there, that it could cause so much havoc in the modern world? I like to think that by re-using all my plastic boxes I’m doing a little to help the environment.

“Nurdles” sound quite harmless, don’t they? It sounds like the kind of name the two smallest grandchildren invent for imaginary creatures in their various games. But in fact “nurdles” turn out to be little plastic globules that are melted down and used in the production of all kinds of plastic objects. And according to this article they get spilt in transit, lost along the way and are now found in almost all the sites of special scientific interest around the country.  Because they are tiny, they look like seeds and birds and small animals eat them and are poisoned by them. Such is the cruelty of the modern world.

At the same time it seems that sewage works use little plastic beads, “biobeeds”, as part of their water treatment process. Recently there have been spillages of these “biobeeds” leading to the need for massive clean-up operations on beaches. Once again, these “biobeeds” are mistaken for food and consumed by birds and small creatures. Here’s a link to an article about it.

And here is columnist Zoe Williams writing about a drug for narcolepsy, a drug which might have a spin-off in helping find a cure for insomnia at the same time. She writes also about cataplexy, which can involve falling asleep after strong emotions. And I was reminded of a friend I had in sixth form whose parents were going through a messy and upsetting divorce - something rather less common in the 1960s than in modern times. My friend used to curl up and go to sleep in the sixth form common room to escape her troubles. We would realise she was missing at the start of a lesson. Our teachers quickly realised what was going on and would dispatch one of us to find her and wake her. This led to her seeking out more recondite but less comfortable places to fall asleep, such as the Spanish department stock cupboard! 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!