This time of year I always remember the writer Charles Dickens and the tale he told us in "A Christmas Carol". Altruism and poverty from the 19th Century spun Dickens into a frenzy and he wrote this lasting novella in 1843 to remind us what stinginess and greed bring. It is also a time to remember St Nicholas who has become Father Christmas, who was born in what is now Turkey, but then in 270, The Holy Roman Empire. He was a great healer and revered.
Foolishly, this Christmas, Mr Corbyn has managed, without buying any presents or food for the table, to "cook his goose". He should have noticed that my favourite jungle dame, Lady Colin Campbell is the only person able to divide the country in two. Banning Christmas signifies and reminds us of the miserable Scrooge, in the scriptures it says Mohammed believed that we Christians should celebrate this time of year, despite being banned in 11 countries around the world.
As punishment Mr Corbyn should be visited by three spectres, the first, Christmas Past in the shape of the GLC and Margaret Thatcher, who could try and take him back to a time when he was born and kill him before he becomes a nuisance to our nation. She should appear to him at the end of his bed in full 1980's power dressing, a mighty Beehive bob and a cigar. Christmas Present should be in the shape of Princess Diana, Barbara Cartland and Lilly Savage. Christmas future could be the National Health Service in the mortuary, crying out for neglect and old aged pensioners freezing cold. Perhaps then he could remember that Cromwell is now considered a miserable toad, lacking colour popularity and humour.
I love getting ready for Christmas, decorating the house, buying presents, laying the table.
I was fortunate this Christmas to receive 3 Turkeys and a Goose for nine people, a very good omen for the coming year. I tried to give them away and discovered that unless I was vetted beforehand there were no takers for my wonderful cooking, didn't they know I went to Winkfield, a finishing school that taught girls cooking, a cordon bleu school. I enjoyed becoming a martyr from 8am in the morning until the actual serving of a delicious Christmas lunch at 4pm and finally clearing up at 9pm. In reflection I totally understand and appreciate the slightly irritable tone from my Mother, who was always overworked. I was lucky enough to play with Inesa, who is seriously inventive when it comes to recipes.
I had a long funny day with wonderful friends from the magical Dark Theatre, Inesa and her husband Barrington creating spells together, it was everything that Christmas should be. Living in the present, it was a celebration of friendship and family, of giving and loving each other. Nothing was mentioned about baby Jesus only in church the night before. Does this matter? No, it is about good intentions and holding hands with people you love. As Cinderella the film preaches "Kindness" is everything. Inesa had recipes for Herrings cooked with carrots and a dangerous cake with two bottles of brandy in it. An even better recipe which included poppy seeds and milk, but took a lot of work made us all very happy.
The midnight service, the night before at St Martins in the Fields made me childlike as I sung the descants. I remember singing with a great friend in my sons Carol concerts. Each year we sat in the back and were told off for knowing and giving our all in Hark the Herald Angels Sing as it went full pelt to sing the top G. Of course I easily used to go to a top B or C when I was young. It is still as much fun as when I was 7 years old. The words weave good feeling throughout the night.
Whether you are a prolific lover of festivity, fun or singing, being anti, and feeling disparaging thoughts, Scrooge comes to life. As countries ban Christmas, yet Iran does not, who cares what religion we are, more to the point we should all enjoy life, give freely, help others and love them. This is the recipe for happiness and good alchemy. The ritual of tenderness, the cooking, cleaning and cuddling is so important and as I get older more interesting.
My day was finished off with a walk in the park watched over by a full moon and the acting of howling wolves. I walked off Christmas pudding happily. Late into the night I watched my favourite Sir Tim Rice tell tales of his musical life on BBC 2. At the moment he and Andrew Loyd Webber have put on the wonderful Wizard of Oz throughout America, perhaps some more dreams will come true as I open my Christmas presents, luckily I received a pink pig money bank, a catalogue of artworks that are not mine but I love, and a butterfly made of mink and silver, a beautiful DNA restorer of sound by Mark Brazier Jones and a new white collar from Kay Saatchi. I am a lucky girl. Falling to sleep to a friends advice, life can be fulfilling. No need to be a "Kill Joy" Mr Corbyn. Enjoy yourself. The Queens Speech.
Thanks be to God.
Foolishly, this Christmas, Mr Corbyn has managed, without buying any presents or food for the table, to "cook his goose". He should have noticed that my favourite jungle dame, Lady Colin Campbell is the only person able to divide the country in two. Banning Christmas signifies and reminds us of the miserable Scrooge, in the scriptures it says Mohammed believed that we Christians should celebrate this time of year, despite being banned in 11 countries around the world.
As punishment Mr Corbyn should be visited by three spectres, the first, Christmas Past in the shape of the GLC and Margaret Thatcher, who could try and take him back to a time when he was born and kill him before he becomes a nuisance to our nation. She should appear to him at the end of his bed in full 1980's power dressing, a mighty Beehive bob and a cigar. Christmas Present should be in the shape of Princess Diana, Barbara Cartland and Lilly Savage. Christmas future could be the National Health Service in the mortuary, crying out for neglect and old aged pensioners freezing cold. Perhaps then he could remember that Cromwell is now considered a miserable toad, lacking colour popularity and humour.
I love getting ready for Christmas, decorating the house, buying presents, laying the table.
I was fortunate this Christmas to receive 3 Turkeys and a Goose for nine people, a very good omen for the coming year. I tried to give them away and discovered that unless I was vetted beforehand there were no takers for my wonderful cooking, didn't they know I went to Winkfield, a finishing school that taught girls cooking, a cordon bleu school. I enjoyed becoming a martyr from 8am in the morning until the actual serving of a delicious Christmas lunch at 4pm and finally clearing up at 9pm. In reflection I totally understand and appreciate the slightly irritable tone from my Mother, who was always overworked. I was lucky enough to play with Inesa, who is seriously inventive when it comes to recipes.
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| Christmas beauty |
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| Basting the Turkey |
I had a long funny day with wonderful friends from the magical Dark Theatre, Inesa and her husband Barrington creating spells together, it was everything that Christmas should be. Living in the present, it was a celebration of friendship and family, of giving and loving each other. Nothing was mentioned about baby Jesus only in church the night before. Does this matter? No, it is about good intentions and holding hands with people you love. As Cinderella the film preaches "Kindness" is everything. Inesa had recipes for Herrings cooked with carrots and a dangerous cake with two bottles of brandy in it. An even better recipe which included poppy seeds and milk, but took a lot of work made us all very happy.
The midnight service, the night before at St Martins in the Fields made me childlike as I sung the descants. I remember singing with a great friend in my sons Carol concerts. Each year we sat in the back and were told off for knowing and giving our all in Hark the Herald Angels Sing as it went full pelt to sing the top G. Of course I easily used to go to a top B or C when I was young. It is still as much fun as when I was 7 years old. The words weave good feeling throughout the night.
 |
| The fun of hiding behind a mask |
Whether you are a prolific lover of festivity, fun or singing, being anti, and feeling disparaging thoughts, Scrooge comes to life. As countries ban Christmas, yet Iran does not, who cares what religion we are, more to the point we should all enjoy life, give freely, help others and love them. This is the recipe for happiness and good alchemy. The ritual of tenderness, the cooking, cleaning and cuddling is so important and as I get older more interesting.
 |
| The magical potion of Poppy Seed Milk |
My day was finished off with a walk in the park watched over by a full moon and the acting of howling wolves. I walked off Christmas pudding happily. Late into the night I watched my favourite Sir Tim Rice tell tales of his musical life on BBC 2. At the moment he and Andrew Loyd Webber have put on the wonderful Wizard of Oz throughout America, perhaps some more dreams will come true as I open my Christmas presents, luckily I received a pink pig money bank, a catalogue of artworks that are not mine but I love, and a butterfly made of mink and silver, a beautiful DNA restorer of sound by Mark Brazier Jones and a new white collar from Kay Saatchi. I am a lucky girl. Falling to sleep to a friends advice, life can be fulfilling. No need to be a "Kill Joy" Mr Corbyn. Enjoy yourself. The Queens Speech.
Thanks be to God.
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