And a Happy Christmas to all my readers

Hope you’ve had a good one, and that you got all that you wanted, and perhaps even a little bit more.

It was the first truly White Christmas for many years. I can’t remember when snow last lasted so long, but I guess it’s seasonal, and lovely as long as you don’t have far to travel. The photo is from last weekend, when the snow still looked pristine.

Yesterday was mostly spent eating, drinking and tv watching. I'm definately going to need to get out there walking in the New Year, as my Christmas dress was, frankly, 'snug'.

Enjoy the rest of the holiday season, and I'll see you on here soon.

And now, the end is here

I’ve just listened to the final Wake Up To Wogan, and, truth be told, I’m feeling a bit emotional.

Yes, it was a little self indulgent in its music choices, and as the team around him finally got to say ‘thank you’, but if he couldn’t do that on his last show, when could he. His final speech to his listeners brought tears to my eye.

As a broadcaster, he seems to have been around my whole life. I finally migrated to the Radio 2 Breakfast Show when Chris Evans* took over on Radio 1, as I couldn't stand him. At first it seemed like an admission that I was getting older, but I soon realised what I'd been missing.

What he does seems so simple, and yet is so skilful. He’s put a smile on my face so many times on my drive to work, even on the bleakest of days. I have laughed out loud, often just at the fact that he is laughing so much. The humour is always gentle, and never bitter, the mocking affectionate. I have sometimes remained in the car after arriving at my destination, just to hear the end of a ‘Janet and John’ story.

And then there’s the music. Artists that otherwise we’d probably never have heard of. Eva Cassidy, Beth Nilsson Chapman (not to mention Katie Mehlua).

Over the years I have laughed, and occasionally cried, with him. I know he will be back in the New Year with a Sunday show, but it truly is the end of an era.

Thank you, and farewell, Togmeister!

*How strange it is that I now love his drivetime show and that he is the one who will be taking over in January, and. He’s mellowed with age.

Meeting the Military

It all began when we saw the Robin Hood’s Bay Victorian Weekend advertised when we were in Scarborough. It had the magic words ‘visitors are encouraged to come in costume’, so we were sold. It turns out it’s the 16th year – how come I haven’t known about this before?

Of course, encouraging people to dress up doesn’t mean they will. But being aware that this could turn into another ‘Pirates at WYP’ event, where the only people in costume were us and the cast, wasn’t likely to put us off. Give me a costume, and I’m in character.

The selection of costumes available was a bit limited, as there is a bit of a rush on Victoriana come Christmas-time, so I ended up wearing the same skirt that I’d worn in the play, and its matching jacket*, with ‘Lady Bracknell’s’ hat, and a short velvet cape. J chose the pin stripe suit last seen on Cat’s lady archaeologist at the murder mystery.

Arriving in the car park on Saturday morning, there was a distinct lack of Victorians around. I shrugged my shoulders, put my hat on, and we headed for a coffee shop, which was advertising a Victorian quiz. The staff were in costume, but no one else was. Hmmm!

As we walked down the hill into the village, we finally spotted some other people in costume. Yes, some of the costumes were a bit Am Dram chorus (what? I’m a theatre snob!), but at least they had made an effort.

After that the Victorians were everywhere. What we found is that people in costume are quite happy to talk to other people in costume. Most couldn’t believe that we’d not been before, yet had actually turned up in costume. I won a bottle of wine on the tombola (oh yes!), which I then had to carry round, and which caused quite a few comments.

We encountered a couple of soldiers outside the pub. They explained that they came every year, hired a cottage for the weekend, and brought a range of different costumes. They told us how they’d researched their costumes, hey, they’d even grown the authentic facial hair. What’s not to love?

We spent a wonderful few hours, taking photos, posing for photos, and pitying those who were too bashful to dress up. We went round the open houses, most of which were beautiful holiday cottages.

Of course, this all just set my mind racing. A weekend, spent in costume, in a lovely little cottage, with pubs and cafes to hand. I know what I want to do next December. Anyone want to join me?

*Yes, I did complain that it wasn’t quite in period

What a difference a day makes

From this:

To this:

but you know what else is different? I'm actually smiling on both pictures, even the one where I'm in the wind, rain , and mud (though still with my handbag). Now that's progress.

(Coming soon, the tale of my 'dressing up' day)

100 Days: Day 1

Yes, I know technically it was yesterday, but as I worked all day, I didn't actually get round to reading my first poem till 20 to midnight. So, it had to be a short one. Don't worry, I'm not going to post them all up on here.

I have quite a selection available, having gone a bit mad in Borders* on Saturday. One of the books I bought was an anthology of poetry, with a poem for each day of the year. Looking through, I clearly have a cursory knowledge of a lot more poems than I'd realised, as many are, if not exactly familiar, at least ones with familiar phrases. Or maybe it's just that I collect quotations.

I started at the poem for 1 December. It was the one which begins 'I must go down to the sea again', already slightly familiar, so perhaps later, if I'm struggling for inspiration. I turned to the beginning of the book. For 2 January, there was a poem by Wendy Cope, who was recommended by Shona, so I was able to tick off both an unfamiliar poet, and a recommendation.

Bloody Men

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

by Wendy Cope

It seemed kind of apt.

I liked her style, and I think I'll read more, and you can't say fairer than that for a start.

*How gutted am I that Borders has gone into administration? I love a bookshop, and can spend hours in there. Buying books on line is ok when you know what you want, but the sheer joy of browsing and discovering books you didn't know about is something that should not be lost.