Christmas greetings

Whether or not you hung up a stocking last night, whether or not you celebrate Christmas, after a year that has seen so much national and international tragedy and sadness I hope that this season brings us all what we need the most - peace, friendship, comfort and companionship, and the determination to make them last.

The Writer's Room

I always find it's good in the run-up to Christmas to have some other things to take your mind off the  the turkey, cards still not written, presents not yet bought! This has certainly been a busy week, with an interesting session on Thursday at Corinium Radio, being interviewed by Rona Laycock about "Digging Up The Family" for an edition of The Writer's Room to be aired on New Year's day. If you're in the land of the living after your New Year celebrations, you can hear the programme on-line (www.coriniumradio.co.uk) at 2pm, with repeats on January 3rd and 5th at the same time.

Now, however, it's 10pm on Christmas Eve, so if the turkey doesn't get some attention and the presents don't get wrapped ...

In the bleak midwinter?

As I said in my previous post, I could do without winter - and quite happily hibernate from autumn to spring!  But I think even hibernating animals wake occasionally, and I'd certainly rouse myself for Christmas get-togethers - it's good to have the opportunity for catch-ups with people you rarely see during the rest of the year.

One Christmas get-together we've already had this year was last Friday's New Bohemians party night. I haven't been able to make many of their sessions this year and it was a most enjoyable evening. Seasonal music, mulled wine and mince pies and some hugely entertaining limericks about poets written and performed by Robin Gilbert and Roger Turner really got us into the mood; David Clarke's poetry quiz both amused and floored us - OK, we all knew the author of the excerpt from "A Child's Christmas In Wales", but would you recognise a picture of Sharon Olds wearing a Father Christmas outfit?! Some great contributions in the open mic as always. New Bohemians goes from strength to strength and next year's programme sounds really promising too. 

Robin limericking

A seasonally decked Alison Brackenbury

The weekend brought my pet hates of the winter through - thick snow and freezing temperatures. Perhaps you heard Helen Mort on Radio 4 yesterday talking about seasonal poetry and why snow in particular has inspired so many poets (myself included - see below!). After the coldest night of the year here and pavements like ice rinks outside this morning, I think I'm hunkering down for the day; there's more than enough work on the desk. 

Child's Play

Mouldering leaves beneath

fog smothered lamps,

snow shrouded streets, 

ponds in rigor mortis - 

winter is trigger-happy,

a small boy pointing a stick,

"Bang, bang - you're dead!"

But, come the spring,

it's time to go home for tea.

His victims jump up, resurrected,

laughing at the absurd game

he won't play again

until next December.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2015)

"It was a dark and stormy night ..."

For a variety of reasons I'm rarely able to perform with our local Community Players these days, but I do miss "treading the boards" and I always try to support the group's productions. Each December they have a seasonal revue and raise funds for local charities; the event has been running for nearly twenty years now and is a highlight in the Charlton Kings calendar. Last night's was terrific - a full house, an appreciative audience and a great line up of acts.

Once upon a time ...

Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed the music that was played and the poems that were read, it was the stories that really caught my imagination. And they started me thinking of all the people who, over centuries, have sat around on cold winter nights, weaving magic with tales of ghosts and griefs, love and longing, heroism and homesickness. Last night we were sitting in a dark church hall with rain lashing the windows; I don't doubt that our ancestors, probably sitting by fires in caves, predators prowling in the blackness outside, were equally enthralled, moved, frightened and amused by the story-tellers of their time! There's something very special about the tradition of oral story-telling.

Whilst I've been typing this, it's started to snow quite heavily. Again this year my garden has seemed confused by autumn and the onset of winter - I've had primroses out since November and a fine crop of buds on the tree just outside the study window. Winter isn't my favourite season and a bit of a spring preview certainly cheers me along, but I just hope that these premature visitors will survive through the worst of what's to come!