New Year Revolution!

I have made a New Year Resolution! In truth, it arises because from time to time my lovely daughter, Heather, turns into Yvonne to give me a good telling off! This time there were two telling-offs.

The first was about the number of books I now have in piles on the floor in the lounge as I have run out of bookshelves. I buy books and have them given to me - and I read them. Heather suggested - would you believe it! - that I mighty dispose of the books I have not read for some time. What a preposterous suggestion! I did not let Heather know that I also have books in the bedroom. I dismissed the idea out of hand. You never know then I might want to read J B Priestley or Rumpole! The former in Penguin paperback priced at two shillings and three pence circa 1949. They must be worth a mint now!

The second telling-off concerns the office. And this is the subject of my New Year Revolution - well it is, I can tell you! I am to clear the office of old papers and for this to happen I am shortly leaving the homestead to travel to Ilford to buy a replacement paper shredder. So I cannot hang about here writing - and there is washing to be hung out to dry for I have done one washing machine load while I have been writing this!

May I wish all my readers - and that includes you, Cedric - a Very Happy, Prosperous and Peaceful New Year. I am, as you may realise, a Remainer and long may we Remain! If you do not agree that is your choice (but do not try to tell me what to think, thank you very much!). I lived through the Blitz in the 1939-45 war and the years of austerity that followed - and I do not want all that over again, thank you for asking. Sweets were on ration until 1952 and I did not see a banana till 1947 - let alone eat one!

Happy Days! Keep smiling!

Christmas at St. Paul's

Many of my friends will know that I take part in services and events at St. Paul's Cathedral here in London. I started to go to St. Paul's when Yvonne was first taken unwell. I needed somewhere quiet and especially so after Yvonne passed away some four years ago.

On one of my very early Sunday mornings a Steward came up to me, shook me by the Scout handshake (the right hand) and said my name. He remembered me as Editor of SCOUTING. Since then one other Steward - a lady - makes a point of speaking to me. The lady showed Jenefer and me around during a special event for new Friends - for I am now a Friend of St. Paul's.

Two of the Canons, the Dean and the Chaplain now speak to me as friends. In addition to Sunday services, I enjoy events such as the Messiah, the Celebration of Christmas, the Advent Procession - alone or with Jenefer, Paul and Guy. Graham, Richard and Heather have joined me too. On weekdays I try to attend the 5pm Service of Sung Evensong from time to time. I sit on the far left - for at 4.45pm one of the Wandsmen invites the first 60 or so to sit in the choir. That is a wonderfully fulfilling time of quiet thought.

On Christmas Eve the BBC broadcast an hour long programme - 'Christmas at St. Paul's'. I have just watched it on BBC iplayer and would urge my friends to do likewise. I guess it was filmed 12months ago because Canon Michael Hempel is now at Durham Cathedral. He and the Revd Helen O'Sullivan, Chaplain, were very kind to me when I attended a Service to remember the faithful departed and at other times.

If you can take the time to watch, I believe you will see why I find it a place of peace - somewhere that allows me to be quiet.

This year I sat near the choirboy who sang the first verse of 'Once in Royal David City' - a verse I sang as a chorister at St. Peter's Aldborough Hatch in the 1940s. It was a very special moment.

I took this shot of St. Paul's this Christmas - for I believe that no outdoor photograph of the Cathedral is complete without a Red London Bus!

May I wish my friends a Very Happy, Peaceful New Year.

Now I know!

A good lesson. I didn't know this, so sharing with you all.

There is one Christmas Carol that has always baffled me.

What in the world do leaping lords, French hens, swimming swans, and especially the partridge who won't come out of the pear tree have to do with Christmas?

This week, I found out.

From 1558 until 1829, Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. Someone during that era wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics.

It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.

•  The partridge in a pear tree was Jesus Christ.
•  Two turtle doves were the Old and New Testaments.
•  Three French hens stood for faith, hope and love.
•  The four calling birds were the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.
•  The five golden rings recalled the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old   Testament.
•  The six geese a-laying stood for the six days of creation.
•  Seven swans a-swimming represented the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit--Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.
• The eight maids a-milking were the eight beatitudes.
• Nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit--Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.
• The ten lords a-leaping were the Ten Commandments.
• The eleven pipers piping stood for the eleven faithful disciples.
• The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.

So there is your history for today. This knowledge was shared with me and I found it interesting and enlightening and now I know how that strange song became a Christmas Carol...so pass it on if you wish.'

Help!

Earlier I mentioned the round-robin letters that sometimes accompany Christmas Cards, but I have another problem!

Today I received a card - a very fine one, too, supporting a well-known charity - from Hugo. Now I know a lot of people, but not one of them has the name Hugo.

Earlier this week a card came from Fred and Margaret. And I do not know a couple with those names. I know some Freds and a few Margarets (and very fine folk they are, let me tell you) but not one of the Freds I know is attached - even remotely - to a Margaret.

I am sat sitting here pondering . . .

All of a quiver!

Jenefer, a friend from St. Peter’s, and I went last evening to Westminster Cathedral’s Celebration of Christmas - my friend Paul is MC to the Cardinal and let us have tickets near the front. 

We arrived early and spotted M &S in the Mall opposite the Cathedral. I bought two non-iron shirts (I am not good at ironing shirts!) and as we approached the exit it I saw Yvette Cooper MP browsing among the ladies blouses. 

I went up to Yvette and shook her hand, first asking after Ed and then mentioning that Wes Streeting is my MP. Now I can honestly say that at the mention of his name, Yvette’s eyes lit up even more brightly (and they were bright enough already, I can tell you). Yvette was glowing in praise. We parted wishing each other a good Christmas. 

I then came over all of a quiver, having met Yvette, who sits near Wes in the Commons and speaks with such passion and conviction. I would happily follow Yvette on any protest march!

I would add that Jenefer suggested we sit down to allow me to recover my composure. It took some time, I can tell you.

Forgive me!

I trust I might be forgiven for laughing, but it is nearly Christmas. My friends will know that I have an aversion to those round robin letters that some good folk tuck inside their Christmas cards - and if you are one of those, forgive for I am sure you mean well.

You see, they so often come from friends who have named their children Sebastian and Esmeralda, who always - but always - do the right thing, are top of the class in whatever they attempt and are just brilliant no matter what! I read them, come down to earth and smile. Nothing ever goes wrong and all is brightness and light, for they have tails that are so bushy that they sweep the leaves away as they trot through the forest glade, singing and dancing and smiling and cavorting (whatever that maybe, although it sounds painful) without a trouble in the world where all is sweetness and light.

But I have just received one such letter that made me laugh aloud. It is not really funny at all, as you will see, but the way the words came off the paper sent a wave of naughty hilarity through my tired and nearly worn out frame. It read:

"It has not been a good year for me health wise, starting with flu picked up on a New Year cruise and finishing with eight weeks of shingles, with other problems in between." (I am spared the details!) "I go to be measured for elastic stockings this afternoon as my last leg injury took 3.5 months to heal." (Again, I am spared the details) "I went for a Rome to Seville cruise in June and spent two weeks in Tunisia in November - we now take my wheelchair as my mobility is not good . . . I hope we do not have the volume of snow we had this year - I threw seed out for the birds from my lounge window. Thank goodness for Tesco deliveries."

See what I mean? Happy Christmas - and have a great New Year!

Christmas in London

Monday 17th December was a special day for my family and me. In the morning a good friend joined me for coffee, at lunchtime I received a call from the ILFORD RECORDER to do some photography - then I travelled to London. First to St. Paul's Cathedral for Sung Evensong - with the choristers at their very best. I had a seat in the choir, where I could sink into quiet thoughts.

The 25 bus no longer seems to go to Oxford Circus, so I caught a Number 8 to Tottenham Court Road. But we were tipped out far from that road! I asked a young man where I might find the station - and he said: "Follow me!" which I did. The Road was packed - and so was the Central Line. Alighting at Oxford Circus, I emerged into the darkness to find so many people I almost became submerged. On to Hamleys - of blessed memory - with camera out. The 139 bus took me to Trafalgar Square where I enjoyed the Norwegian Christmas Tree, sending shots on Instagram to Oslo for Richard and Stine to enjoy (and they did). The singing was joyous. The number 11 bus to St. Paul's for some more photographs, then the 26 to Liverpool Street Station and home via Ilford and Radio Cars. Having left home at 3pm it was nearly 8.30pm when Socks looked quizzically, asking for his supper.

I have come over all of a quiver!

I have come over all of a quiver! I decided to donate to THE GUARDIAN's charity telethon this morning. I read that "donations will help bring justice and dignify to vulnerable Brtitish citizens and migrants - victims of Britain's hostile immigration policies". Twenty or so journalists on the paper were taking calls. I got through to the Editor-in-Chief! How about that! I told her that I have read the GUARDIAN since I was 20 when it was THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN. Katherine Viner was amazed! I told her I read John Crace first - the Parliamentary sketch writer - and I was put through to talk to him! How about that! It has made my day, week, year! They both laughed when I told them that my newsagent tells me that I am the only GUARDIAN reader in Aldborough Hatch.

I wish to give notice . . .

I wish to give notice to all my friends (and my enemies too, for that matter) that should Boris Johnson, David Davis, Jacob Reece Mogg or any other equally idiotic so-called politician be elected Prime Minister I will apply for asylum in Norway, there to spend my twilight years. If there are any problems about my being allowed to stay, I will hide in the basement of my son's fine home on the other side of Oslo Fjord. I am unsure if my son will be happy about this but I will claim age-related stupidity.

It must be Christmas!

I set today aside to finish the brass, copper and silver cleaning with MASS from Lakeland, and glassware washing. I started about 8.30am and finished late afternoon. I paced myself with a number of breaks for it takes a lot of elbow grease.

It seems that Christmas is on the way - with the lights in the front garden joining one or two others down road.

Socks watches all this activity with sublime indifference, just expecting his meals on time. And when there are delays, he lets me know that this will not do. Here he is sitting on the arm of my chair - waiting for supper.

Twice a year!

I am about halfway through the twice yearly brass and copper cleaning and glassware washing - thanks to Lakeland's MASS I only do this twice a year. Brass and copper, said Yvonne, make the home look warm, inviting and homely. I agreed - and Yvonne polished and washed. Now it is my turn. I ask myself twice a year if I should not put it all away or sell it or hand it on - but then when I have polished and washed, I sit back and admire it all.

Here is just a small part - on the mantlepiece in the lounge. The brass plate cost me 10 shillings from an antique shop - long since gone - near the Old Bailey in the 1960s. The candlesticks belonged to Yvonne's mother. A family heirloom - so no selling or passing on.

We had a post horn and a smaller horn which I recall Yvonne put away some years ago. I am unsure where they are - possibly in the cupboard under the stairs which I have yet to explore - well there are only so many hours in the day! Perhaps one of my good friends will volunteer - I will hold the torch.

I have set aside tomorrow to complete the task.

Winter sunshine

After a week of rain and cold heralding the coming of winter, Saturday 8th December dawned bright with  brilliant sunshine snaking across Fairlop Plain, over Aldborough Hatch Farm with hedgerows alive with red berries and onto St. Peter's Church, cloaked in the warm stones from the first Westminster Bridge.

Christmas is on the way!

Christmas is on its way here in wintry Aldborough Hatch. Having dressed the porch over the past couple of days, I made a start on the front garden this afternoon - in the rain! Interestingly, as the parents and children from the William Torbitt Primary School walked past, some stopped to look - and wave. Others looked steadfastly ahead or at their mobiles - and missed everything. I might invite Alexa to sing a few carols one evening to see what response that gets.

Brass cleaning is making progress. A new tube of MASS arrived yesterday from Lakeland - I cannot buy this in the shop but order it online. This is a great improvement on Brasso - which only lasted a month or so - MASS lasts for six months so I only have to clean twice a year. I have prpobab;y done one third so far - I do an hour or two each day as the ams get tired with the polishing. Honest!

Today I washed the Waterford glass - putting the crib scene back after it was on display at the church at the Christmas Market. This is a task I actually enjoy for each piece has a memory. I bought a piece each Christmas for Yvonne over some years. Una bought the crib set. Each piece is treasured, not for its value (although I would guess this has increased since most was purchased in the 1970s and 1980s, some during visits to Ireland as Editor of SCOUTING) but for the memories.

Now I know!

Anna was born in Forest Gate and Vera in East Ham. So now I know.

Anna and Vera!

I had an interesting experience today. I passed by Anna Neagle Close and next door was Vera Lynn Close! Both in Leytonstone. The Central Line was down mid-morning so I took a 308 bus from Wanstead to Stratford as instructed by the man at the station who knows about these things. The 308 is a bus I have not boarded before. We went via Wanstead Flats and parts of Leytonstone that I did not know existed. I am unsure where Anna was born, but I know Vera hailed from Barking. So how come they are both remembered in Leytonstone? Answers please! By the way, I was on my way to do some Christmas Shopping, in case you wondered.

Christmas is on its way - official!

Christmas is on its way - official! How do I know? Well, today I have started the decorations. I have winter-cleaned the porch, cleaned the windows inside, polished the woodwork, vacuumed the carpet and rugs and sorted out the plants. I need to buy some more Christmas Plants tomorrow, but the crib is in place - a present some 50 years ago to my daughter, Heather, from Auntie Una - I have suggested that it is time for Heather to have this in her own home but Heather says it must be in the porch here. The Baby Jesus is not there - till Christmas Eve. But his down-down is there waiting (made for Heather by Auntie Ana as Heather said that the Baby Jesus was cold without a blanket. Good point!). I must have a lie down now! Brass cleaning starts this afternoon. Lights go up later in the week. I am pacing myself. Christmas cards all done. Most of the presents packed - but still a few more to buy.

Mad!

The world has gone mad. As we have not had a good frost to make the lily die back, we cut them back - now we have leaves springing up. At this rate we will have Arun lilies for Christmas! Last summer we had some 60 blooms!

As I grew older . . .

As I grow older every day, I make a conscious effort not to become a grumpy old man, but there are some things that irritate me. I will get them off my chest here, if I may, when I will feel a lot better and radiate happiness to all who meet me - and to some who pass by on the other side.

There are three things that make me more sad than annoyed.

Firstly, I object to ladies using their baby buggies as potential battering rams. I walked through Ilford Town Centre this morning as part of my weekly shop and was forced to leap (well, not leap, just move swiftly) out of their way as ladies came sailing through with buggies out front. Some were on their mobiles, whilst others were chatting to friends and the rest were just determined to get where they wanted without a care in the world.

Secondly, I object to folk who have their mobiles in hand and faces down as they walk towards me - again, forcing me to swiftly get out of their way. Collisions would occur, but for the fact that I am alert to the possible danger.

Finally, you will be relieved to hear, I object to folk who cross the road at controlled traffic lights when the indication is that pedestrians should wait for the green man to light up. Often these are ladies with buggies out in front. I feel for the drivers who have to avoid these idiots and would be blamed were there to be an accident. I am sometimes forced to shout: "Wait for the green man", but when I do so, folk look at me as if I am the one who is mad! I am especially prone to do this at Ilford Broadway. One day, I fear, someone will hit me with their walking frame or give me a nasty nudge with their walking stick. But I will not be intimidated in this way.

I feel better now so I will cook my supper and look forward to watching 'Have I got news for you' as it is Friday night. In my youth Friday was bath night, but I have not had a bath for some thirty years (no, do not worry - I shower instead and not just on Friday night).

Have a good weekend, my friend, and thank you for reading so far.

Christmas Market!

St. Peter's Christmas Market - 10am to 4pm tomorrow, Saturday 17th November - Aldborough Road North. Just a few of the stalls - with mouthwatering homemade cakes, pickled opinions, marmalades and preserves, Christmas cards with snow scenes from last winter, a terrific prize draw, refreshments and a unique display of nativity sets in the church. You must not miss this!

Red sky!

'Red sky in the morning, shepherds' warning" say the old adage. But the glory of the sky at seven on the morning on Wednesday 14th November took your breath away in its beauty.

Christmas shoe boxes

This afternoon some sixty shoeboxes containing gifts for children and families in Romania left St. Peter's Aldborough Hatch with Children in Distress, the charity now based in Scotland, which was started by Revd John Walmsley, when he was Vicar of nearby St Lawrence Barkingside. In addition to the decorated boxes, we handed £50 to assist with travel costs from the York Depot and some £225 to help with the cost of transporting across Europe. St. Peter's and friends in the local community have been sending these boxes at Christmas for many years - brining something of the magic of the festive season to those who have little or nothing, in tier homes, hospices and orphanages.

Leaves

St Peter's churchyard - The last leaves of autumn fall in their multi-coloured brilliance - which no man could emulate - against a glorious azure blue sky.

Early this afternoon Irene and Roger rang. Would I be interested in joining them at the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park to witness the 'Shrouds of the Somme'? I guess they knew I was disappointed at the Tower of London yesterday. I had heard about the Shrouds and had hoped to be able to go one day next week, but I jumped at the chance of going with Irene and Roger.

We journeyed by car, parking in the nether regions of a vaste indoor car park at Stratford Westfield. Making our way through Waitrose, we climbed an enormous flight of steps - at the top of which I had to sit down to rest, for my legs are not getting any younger. Onward we strode, Irene insisting that we walk at my pace, which varied from slow to slower, slowest and dead stop! The saving grace was a courtesy eight seater open vehicle into which old people were invited to sit for the journey. Irene had gone ahead to ask the driver to wait for me. I was ushered on board - and the realisation struck me that I am now one of the elderly who are grateful for courtesy vehicles!

Entrance to the 'Shrouds' was via a large tent and exit the same way. The photographs speak for themselves. Each of the 72,396 shrouds represents a man who died at the Somme. Their names were read over a loudspeaker system and displayed on the walls in the tent.

The overall effect was such that words completely fail me a couple of hours later. To say that I was overwhelmed would be the under statement of the decade. The number 72,396 had little meaning until I saw 72,396 shrouds laid on the moist green grass as the sun moved slowly to set, leaving long lines of light across the seemingly endless row upon row.

Broadcaster Dan Snow writes in the booklet available on the site: "Rob Heard's Shrouds of the Somme is the most remarkable First World War commemoration you will ever see. Step back and see the sheer scale of human sacrifice during the bloodiest battle in British military history. Step forward and see each of the 72,396 shrouded figures lay testimony to the individual sacrifices of the men whose bodies were never recovered. Each one, a human life cut short."

Four years ago the poppies at the Tower of London was a moving tribute to those who gave their lives. 'Shrouds of the Somme' brought the tragedy vividly to mind. I remain speechless . . .

Irene and I sat at a nearby bus stop for the 20 minutes it took Roger to find the car and bring it to pick us up, thus saving the long walk back. My thanks to Roger and Irene for an afternoon that moved me more than I can say or speak.