I am not talking about putting decorations up or going places but I am talking about small things that have made my Christmases idiosyncratic.
When I was a mere stripling, every Christmas I would lay on my tummy with a blanket over me to keep out the cold. There would be a bank of cushions on which I would rest scraps of paper on which I would draw using coloured pencils. I would divide the paper into small square boxes and within each box I would draw something - sometimes seasonal such as a Christmas tree and sometimes totally unseasonal like a car. I have no idea why I did this but it became a Christmas custom and I didn't feel the Christmas season had started until the coloured pens came out.
The strange thing about this is the fact that I am an abysmal artist. No I'm not being modest - when I say I'm an abysmal artist, I mean I'm an abysmal artist. I loved art lessons at the Norwich School but that was because I really liked the art teacher Alex Humphries who is still with us well into his 90s.
I couldn't wait for Saturday mornings when the school week ended with two periods of art in the room above the Ethelbert Gate in Norwich Cathedral Close. I'm sure it's no longer an art room but if you look above the gate you will see where it was and yes we had Saturday morning school which wrecked the weekend.
I'm sure Mr Humphries knew how poor I was at art but he never let on. Very often he would draw something for me and it was more of a colouring in exercise than anything else. I'm sure I've told this tale before so apologies if you are reading it for the second time (I never can remember what I have already written in these blogs).
At the Norwich School we had what were called "three weekly orders." These weren't directions issued by the masters (who incidentally always wore gowns and sometimes carried mortar boards). No "three weekly orders" were a way of grading pupils from the top to the bottom of the form. We had classes of 30 and at the end of each three week period you had a position which was worked out from all the tests and marked homework during the period.
I loved English which was my best subject by far (I even harboured thoughts of becoming a writer - I wonder what happened to those ambitions?). Our English teacher Peter Mackintosh, who I liked as much as I did Alex Humphries, decided to ask us to draw a scene from Robin Hood for our English homework. This would count towards our "three weekly order" mark. I thought this was totally unfair, knowing that on artistic merit I would receive a very low mark as I just couldn't draw.
Now my grandmother's lodger could draw and so this homework must have been on a Wednesday evening when we visited her. He offered to draw me a scene from Sherwood Forest with Robin in Lincoln Green and it really looked good. I handed in the "English" homework and received a mark of 18 out of 20 which I was very pleased with.
"I was very impressed with the artwork and have shown what I consider to be the best to Mr Humphries. So if you scored 17 or higher he will have enjoyed your efforts," Mr Mackintosh said.
"Bugger," I thought: "He's bound to know I didn't do the drawing. What the hell do I do now?"
I decided to come clean and told the English teacher that I got somebody else to do the drawing but I thought it unfair to set what was art for an English mark:
"After all Sir I always get a low mark for art because I'm useless at it. But I don't see why we should have two marks for art," was something approaching my comments.
Peter Mackintosh was a lovely lovely man and just looked at me and replied:
"We are quite aware that you got someone else to do the drawing but as far as I'm concerned you used your initiative for the right reasons and for that reason I'm keeping your mark at 18. Just make sure you don't get anyone to write your essays when you have some genuine English homework," he said.
Anyway I digress - back to my Christmas obsessions. A few years after the Christmases of drawing in boxes, I started reading Charles Dickens and it wasn't Christmas without reading a Dickensian novel.
I think this was prompted by my aunt (I called her aunt but she was actually a second cousin who lived in Tunbridge Wells) who sent me a copy of "The Old Curiosity Shop" for Christmas. It was a slim volume with a blue cover, very thin pages and lots of small type. But it was something for some reason I can't explain that I cherished. I can't even remember whether I read it or whether I still have it. But every Christmas for many years I read a Dickens novel and have just re-started that custom, beginning with David Copperfield which is still one of my favourite novels of all time - full of drama and humour.
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Popped into Norwich yesterday for a quick visit before the shops got busy. We were in by 9 am and out again by 11 am by which time it was getting very busy. I still find it hard to believe that we are so close to Christmas. Next week the tiers are re-assessed. Let's hope Norfolk stays in tier two at the very worst. If we slip into tier three much of that last minute shopping will evaporate.
I always gravitate to Waterstones but rarely buy anything from there as the same book is usually cheaper on Amazon. I'm not sure whether I should do this but when there's a book that costs £16.99 in Waterstones and £7.99 in Amazon - well go figure.
Once again I was rather overwhelmed by the number of books. I'm not talking about the quantities of each title but the mind-numbing number of subjects available. It seems that anyone who can breathe and who has appeared on television can now give the world the benefit of their thoughts and views (a bit like me with this blog). Similarly there are so many biographies and autobiographies around that it's really tough deciding which ones to read, let alone buy.
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I have been thinking about what to do with these blogs which have been running for almost nine months and now number over 300. I will be looking to heavily edit them with a view to self-publishing as a book on village life and thoughts during lockdown. Would be interested to hear what people's thoughts are on this idea and whether they feel it is worth doing. Mind you I would have to seriously slim down the thousands of photographs I have published.
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Sadly Hethersett was not named Stars of Norfolk and Waveney Village/Town of the Year in the competition organised by the Eastern Daily Press Newspaper. We did make the final three though and we can be proud of that.
It might not mean much but I would like to thank and pay tribute to the army of volunteers that make our village what it is - a wonderfully active community and a super place to live.
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Finally today a big "shout out" (sorry I really hate that phrase) to Steve and Fiona Mills from Hethersett who contacted me about Steve's brother who runs a non profit community charity shop in Bowthorpe called Smile. Smile raises funds for children with disabilities. Yesterday they toured around 32 different locations handing out presents to some of these children.
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I have gone many many blogs without mentioning Norwich City Football Club - "We are top of the league, say we are top of the league." That's really all I need to say.