Advent #17

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Moaning, Money

I don’t really enjoy Christmas Markets.

I accept that’s probably my fault rather than theirs, I don’t much like shopping in general (and I’m certainly a very inept browser). But setting that aside, I have concluded that the best way to go to a Christmas Market is EITHER when you’ve already done all your Christmas shopping so you don’t have any pressure to buy anything; OR when you’re sufficiently well-off that you can, and in the words of Jessie J (ooh, look at me getting down wid da kidz) forget about the price tag.

We went to Exeter’s Christmas Market yesterday and as always there was lots of great-looking stuff. Putting aside my inner Ebenezer, I have nothing but admiration for the people who make jewellery or clothes or decorations or… well, or whatever it is they make; and then turn up day after day in all weathers to sell it.

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But we all baulked, for example, at a range of gorgeous multi-coloured fleece coats which were priced at over £200 – at every turn, dare I say, there were prices which I think many, if not most, people would have to think twice about. Even the food stalls, which looked to be doing the roaringest trade of anybody there, seemed expensive. But given that, as Napoleon said, an army of shoppers marches on its stomach, I guess they had a kind of ‘captive market’ thing going on.

I moan about going every year but despite that, I wouldn’t want the place to close down. Still, in these times where most people seem to be more and more battered by the cost of living, I worry. It would be an awful shame if all those creative sewers and silversmiths and artists ended up pricing themselves out of the (Christmas) Market. 

Advent #16

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1990s, Christmas, Family

It dawned on me the other day that I’ve been cooking Christmas dinner since 1988. I don’t mean “so the sprouts must be nearly ready” – but it is a long time, gone by very quickly. (Maybe, like TS Eliot (sort of) I have measured out my life in Christmas dinners.)

We DID have a turkey phase, but have been ‘Team Duck’ for many years now. And, as previously mentioned, I’m in charge of the cooking.

To be honest that’s overstating it  – I’m only really in charge of the timing, the ‘synchronise your watches’ arrangement between oven, hob and air fryer. The actual cooking of yer actual Christmas lunch is primarily done by the oven (and hob and air fryer) while I just sit back and let it happen. In that sense, there’s not a lot of difference between me and the duck.

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I like music when I’m in the kitchen, although thankfully I won’t need to rely on Alexa (“Play Christmas Carols? I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that”). A Christmas morning fixture is Anneka Rice’s Junior Choice on Radio 2, so I generally prepare lunch singing along to Puff the Magic Dragon, Ernie the Fastest Milkman in the West (which our daughter spent some time teaching to one of her friends during a long car trip to Bristol recently) and Terry Scott’s My Brother (which our daughter has never heard of – ah well, nobody’s perfect).

As a rule my other two-thirds don’t really appreciate me singing and whistling about the place (if it helps to picture me as the Hilda Ogden of Pyworthy, feel free). At Christmas however they’ve no real choice. Some people are said to sing for their supper – in this case they put up with my singing, for their dinner.

Bon appetit!

Advent #15

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Moaning
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Our edition of A Christmas Carol also contains a story called The Chimes which I must confess I’ve never felt the urge to read. I’ve never once heard it mentioned either – like hot towels on airplanes and the Tokyo tower, it exists but is never discussed.

Having recently (finally!) read it, I can see why.

I don’t claim to have read a lot of Dickens, but what I have read is very… wordy. An odd criticism of an author perhaps, but he takes a long time to say anything. I can remember Dad once observing, of the “It was the best of times” opening to A Tale of Two Cities that if one of us had put all that in an essay the teacher would have red-penned through it and told us to get on with it!

I appreciate it’s something of a nerve criticising not just one of England’s finest writers but also one of its finest citizens, but I always get the suspicion he has a contract saying he’s paid by the word, and is determined to make the most of it before his publisher catches on.

The Chimes has plenty of words, but the story they tell is a pale imitation of A Christmas Carol. Toby Veck (no, me neither) is visited by the spirits of the church bells; he sees a horrifying vision of his daughter’s future (she’s unmarried – terrifying stuff); and then, erm, he wakes up and it doesn’t happen after all and everybody lives happily, if inexplicably (and presumably still overworked, poor and starving) ever after.

Our edition of A Christmas Carol (and The Chimes!) is also labelled ‘Volume 1’ – it turns out Dickens did three more festive stories after this one.

So there may well be more words on the subject next year!

Advent #14

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, 1980s, Childhood, Christmas

A month or two back, over tea, I remembered Rotadraw.

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That’s not quite true. I half-remembered  “round thing, like a record, you draw through slot one, turn it, draw through slot two…” and eventually we identified it as a children’s toy from the early-70s called (as no doubt you remember (from the opening sentence if not the early-70s)) Rotadraw.

I assumed, rather vainly, that this toy for 7 or 8 year olds had ceased production when I’d ceased being 7 or 8 – but the internet, having already furnished us the name, reveals that the brand carried on at least into the mid-80s, as we found pictures of an A-Team set. (If you want illustrations, if nobody else does art, and if you’ve got the Rotadraw, maybe you can sketch… and so on.)

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So anyway, and having previously scored a hit with a still mint-in-box Spirograph I bought for her birthday, I thought I’d track down a Rotadraw for my other half for Christmas. I assumed, naively this time, that some fifty year old plastic discs allowing you to render a Bambi or a Tom and/or Jerry, would be easy to find.

Alas, not so – or rather, easy but not cheaply. If only I’d had the presence of mind never to play with the Rotadraws we had as a child and had instead locked them away in a cupboard, I could now have been sitting on a goldmine. Especially if it had been the DC Super Heroes set (currently £150 on eBay).

To cut to the chase, and much as I love Mrs Curnow, she’s definitely NOT getting a Rotadraw (not Robin Hood, not Masters of the Universe, definitely not DC Super Heroes) for Christmas. So I’ll just have to think of something else, and quickly.

Back to the (rota)drawing board!

Advent #13

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, TV

Rowan Atkinson was on the Radio 2 breakfast show the other day. Quite daunting for Scott Mills, especially when Rowan started by saying that he only does interviews “if I’m forced to”! In fact he was charming, courteous, and witty; and right at the end of the interview (and right at the end of this paragraph) they mentioned Christmas mainstay, Love Actually.

Current image: Rowan Atkinson as a jewellery counter assistant.

Rowan’s turn in it always feels like a joke with the punchline missing. For most of the runtime he’s a one-scene cameo working at the jewellery counter in a swanky department store – but then he reappears to help Liam Neeson’s stepson get into the airport in order to profess undying love (actually) to one of his classmates, and he has a knowing look as if maybe the character was supposed to have been randomly popping up all the way through.

Well! From his interview the other day, it turns out that in an early draft Rowan’s character was a guardian angel– which, although ludicrous, nevertheless makes more sense of his randomly giving love (actually) a hand at Heathrow.

It also puts a new slant on his department store appearance. The long-winded gift-wrapping is deliberately drawn out, to give Alan Rickman’s character time to reconsider giving the expensive necklace to his slutty secretary. Albeit it doesn’t work and Rickman’s Harry does end up cheating on his wife. Sorry, but it’s not all about love (actually).

It’s a film I always enjoy at this time of year, despite its faults, and somehow I see something different in it every time. Certainly I shall be looking at Rowan’s character in a very different light this year.

By the way there is also an entirely-excised plotline, featuring Anne Reid and Frances de la Tour as an older couple in love. (Yes, actually.)

Advent #12

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, Childhood, Christmas, Family

Today is our bin day.

Current image: Three full black bin bags

We’re on fortnightly collections, so today is also our LAST bin day before Christmas. Having TWO bank holidays always sends the regular schedule into meltdown, so you might just spare a thought for me come Boxing Day as I cast the runes and consult the heavens before deciding whether or not to put out the rubbish.

When I was young, Dad was very much a bin bag person at Christmas. I don’t mean in the sense that he’d foolishly once said he liked them, and then had to pretend to be pleased every year when we bought him some – no, I mean in the sense that he always liked to have a bin bag ready at hand to put all the discarded wrapping paper into.

Perhaps, originally, when we were very wee, that meant him picking it all up after the fact – but by the time I can actually remember things going on, it was much more an unstated but clear instruction that discarded paper should be put into the bin bag provided, and preferably on a present-by-present basis.

Since we’re going back a bit, it wasn’t then put into the recycling so it could go off and be useful all over again. Oh no, it was just thrown out with the rubbish. And, dare I say, if that hasn’t upset the environmentalists enough already, we would probably have just burned it if there wasn’t a worry in some quarters that bits of flaming paper might drift upwards and cause a chimney fire. Even now I worry about that; which may not sound unreasonable until I point out that we haven’t had a chimney for fifteen years.

Anyway, that’s more than enough from me for today. Yes, I know : what a load of rubbish!

Advent #11

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1980s, BBC, Christmas, TV

Still making my way through The Box of Delights, and I’d quite forgotten that the bishop of Tatchester, cheerful in part one, scrobbled in part four, but ultimately released and full of yuletide spirit in part six – is played by the late John Horsley who is probably best-remembered for having been Doc Morrisey in The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin.

Current image: Actor John Horsley as Doc Morrissey, holding a stethoscope to the chest of Leonard Rossiter as Reginald Perrin.

The first time I saw anything of Reggie Perrin was, ironically, the last thing they did when a five minute sketch from the Perrin team featured in The Funny Side of Christmas in 1982. Hosted by Frank Muir, it was like a selection box, an-hour-and-a-bit of specially-made Christmas sketches from a dozen or so comedies of the day.

It’s hard to imagine such a show nowadays, partly because that sense of the BBC family has gone (in the rose-tinted sense, but also in the pragmatic sense that the entire output is no longer coming out of Television Centre, Wood Lane, W12 8QT).

I was also going to say it’s hard to imagine such a show nowadays, because there aren’t any decent sitcoms anymore–

–except that’s clearly not true. But I must confess I’ve never once bothered with Count Arthur Strong, Derry Girls, Ghosts. Not even Gavin & Stacey. Somehow, the great British sitcom has become one of those things that I never bother to support but which I would be outraged about losing (like my local library or the Church of England).

So, on reflection, I suppose… I mean, really it would be no more than my civic duty to spend some time this Christmas just watching sitcoms, wouldn’t it.

Not that I want to suggest all I do is watch TV.

(I didn’t get where I am today by suggesting all I do is watch TV.)

Advent #10

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Doctor Who, Family
Current image: A small green needle-felted tree, with lights on the wall behind.

If, as I said last week, life comes at you fast then Christmas trees come at you faster. Or rather (since that sentence is clearly gibberish) no sooner had I mentioned that I was planning to go Indiana Jones-style into our storage locker to unearth the tree, than a brand new one turned up instead.

It’s not a standard tree, nor a standard size standing as it does at approximately a foot tall – but, like me, it’s small and perfectly-formed (quiet you). I’m not certain we’ve finished our decorations as such, but at the moment the tree, dignified rather than OTT, is very much in keeping.

In addition to the string of lights around the inside of the window (which may have been put up enthusiastically last week or may have been left up since last year, who can say) we’ve added another set across the ‘feature wall’. It’s like a clothes line (thus appealing to my love of laundry) with about a dozen strands of lights cascading downwards from it.

The lights have various different settings (at least two of which appear to be designed to test for epilepsy) and they are all white, which is probably us channelling my wife’s Mum who was very particular (and very very vocal) on the subject. For myself, I quite like coloured lights – although, to be fair, mainly on somebody else’s house. There’s a set of especially gaudy blue and red ones adorning the bungalow on the corner, which always remind me of the Colin Baker title sequence. Which is nice.

As for our lovely new tree, I’m going to clear our corner table later so that it can be permanently sited there. After which it’ll be time to start putting some presents under the tree – albeit, only very small ones!

Advent #9

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in Christmas, Family, Little Bit Of Politics

I love getting books for Christmas.

Giving them too, although I’d by no means say that I always get it right. My Mum gamely made her way through the whole of Agatha Christie’s autobiography before admitting she hadn’t really enjoyed it. I think she was worried she’d seem ungrateful if she didn’t, which I can sort of understand – although as I pointed out, I only bought it, I didn’t actually write it. (Really, she could just have flicked to the end to find out who the guilty party was.)

In similar vein, I’m currently embarking on Precipice by Robert Harris which I bought for Dad a year or so back, mainly, to be honest, off the back of Jeremy Vine saying how good it was. Dad abandoned it partway through – and although my brother borrowed it, he didn’t make it all the way either (but he did at least flick to the end. No guilty party as such but apparently we go to war with Germany).

Current image: A piles of Boris Johnson's "Unleashed" book with the headline "Boris Johnson's Memoir Reduced... After Only A Week of Going On Sale"

Last year I got Mum the Boris Johnson book. Which may sound a bit risky but in fact I had an inkling she was interested in reading it, and I’m pleased to report (for my book-buying reputation at least) that she rattled through it. I couldn’t face it, and haven’t borrowed it, although I did just flick to the very end. (I have no idea who the guilty party was, but got a very strong sense that Boris had spent something like 750 pages proclaiming that it wasn’t him).

All of which literary criticism is in no way whatsoever connected to the fact that there are currently half a dozen books in my spare room waiting to be wrapped up. Happy Christmas reading, fellow Curnows (or not, as the case may be)!

Advent #8

by andrewcurnow1971, posted in 1970s, 1980s, BBC, Childhood, Christmas, Doctor Who, TV

At this time of year, I often find my thoughts turning towards the latest BBC Doctor Who blu-rays. (Because yes, season of goodwill notwithstanding I really am that shallow.)

The latest, released in October but promptly squirrelled away somewhere in the house to await Christmas Day, is season 13. First aired from Autumn 1975 to Spring 1976 (nicely helping to pass the time between the two long hot Summers) it’s got everything – assuming that by ‘everything’  you mean disembodied brains, killer plants and, er, some nonsense with an eyepatch in The Android Invasion. But my favourite is the opener, Terror of the Zygons, in which some whispering alien shape-changers plot to take over the world using their pet Loch Ness monster.

I was too young in 1975, so the first time I laid eyes on this beauty was in 1988 when the BBC brought it out on video – released in November but promptly squirrelled away somewhere in the house to await Christmas Day.

On the face of it there’s nothing at all Christmassy about it, other than a bit of snow on some of the location filming – but because of that first viewing all those years ago, it feels to me that it has Christmas running all the way through it. Half-drowned oil rig worker shot dead on a beach? The Doctor and Sarah Jane left to suffocate in a decompression chamber? An alien doppleganger of Harry Sullivan impaled on a pitchfork? I can practically smell the mulled wine already.

Even the Doctor puts on a special outfit for the (non-)occasion. OK, it’s not a santa suit, but it IS something special, a one-off just for this story. So special in fact that he’s sporting it on the front cover of…

Did I mention it’s out on blu-ray?

Current image: Bluray cover, featuring Tom Baker as Doctor Who wearing a Tam O'Shanter hat and a Tartan scarf.