Hello booklovers,

Behind door number 19 we have a delightful piece courtesy of lovely committee member Jez, also about the depiction of nature and wildlife in Christmas carols.

Jez writes…

‘I was minded to talk about nature in carols and Christmas songs and stories. It has been the custom for many centuries for greenery to be cut and brought into the house during the Winter Solstice/Christmas season to decorate windows and doors, and now, of course, we have the Christmas tree, and swathes of greenery on mantelpieces and all over the house. Holly, ivy and Christmas trees have been talked about by another contributor, but the other main winter plant is mistletoe, whose use dates back to the Druids, who considered it sacred and used it in sacrifices, and to the Norse invaders who believed that bringing mistletoe into the house brought good luck to the household and warded off evil spirits.

Nearly all Christian churches ban mistletoe because of the Pagan legacy but every year the Dean of York Minster dons ceremonial gloves to hang mistletoe on the high altar. A proclamation is then made for “public and universal liberty, pardon and freedom to all wrongdoers”, a custom dating back to the Middle Ages.

Mistletoe features in several modern Christmas songs, probably the best-known being Cliff Richard’s “Mistletoe and Wine” and Justin Bieber’s “Mistletoe”, and in a folksong, “The Mistletoe Bough”, in which a young bride wearies of dancing at her wedding and suggests a game of hide and seek in her father’s castle. She hides in an old chest which locks and traps her, and it is not until many years later that her skeleton in her bridal gown is discovered.

Animals and birds feature in many carols and stories. Apart from Rudolph and Little Donkey, other animals, particularly sheep, oxen and asses, appear in several carols and Christmas poems, including “While Shepherds Watched their Flocks”, “Little Drummer Boy”, “Bethlehem Down”, “My Dancing Day” and Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Oxen”. This retells the legend that the ox and ass in the Bethlehem stable knelt down to worship the Baby Jesus, and this story is also mentioned in his novels “Tess of the D’Urbervilles” and “Under the Greenwood Tree”. *

The wren was hunted and killed in England and Ireland on St Stephen’s Day (26 December) in ancient times. The reasoning was that the wren was a traitor and a cheat because its song had betrayed a priest, and it had ridden on the back of an eagle in order to win a contest to see who could fly highest. The story of the hunt became popular at the time of the Peasants’ Revolt, with the wren symbolising baronial property to be seized by the peasantry. In the folksong “The Cutty Wren”, men go out to catch a wren which they take round to the local gentry asking for money. Gradually, the practice of killing the wren was replaced by a ritual enactment. Carol Ann Duffy’s book “The Wren Boys” is a modern take on this story. On St Stephen’s evening at Middleton, near Leiston, the Old Glory Molly Dancers and musicians sing the old wren-hunting songs and then take a wooden wren in a cage in procession by candle and torch light through the village, ending with more song and dance at the Bell Inn.

A charming Czech carol, which I remember from primary school, is “From out of the wood did a cuckoo fly” in which the cuckoo, pigeon and dove celebrate Jesus’ birth singing cuckoo, vrer-croo and tsu-croo respectively. Parts of the melody were used by Sir Arthur Sullivan for the song, “Tit Willow” in the Mikado.

The Twelve Days of Christmas” features a grand total of 23 birds of 6 varieties: swans, geese, colly (or calling) birds, French hens, turtle doves and of course the partridge, as well as whatever beasts the maids were milking – probably cows or maybe goats. John Julius Norwich wrote an hilarious take on the song, illustrated by Quentin Blake, consisting of a series of thank you letters from an increasingly frazzled young woman to her admirer. A brilliantly funny book which would make a great Christmas present if you are still searching for that elusive something special!’

After having read this, I feel inspired to go for a long wintry walk and take in all the beauty of nature that surrounds me, even at the cold and dark time of year.

Yuletide wishes until tomorrow!

Hello booklovers,

What brilliant contributions we have been having from our wonderful volunteers over the past two weeks of Advent. Today it is my turn to pick our festive tune. On the week before Christmas, I thought ‘Away in a Manger’ would be perfect as the carol hiding behind today’s Advent door.

‘Away in a Manger’ always conjures up in my mind an image of extremely solemn school children concentrating intently on their Christmas play. It takes me back to the days of angels with tinsel halos, shepherds with tea towels tied round their heads and Father Christmases with cotton wool beards, all singing their hearts out to this well known tune. Geraldine Kaye depicts the hilarity and chaos of preparing for the school nativity perfectly in her story ‘Eight Days to Christmas‘ Home-made costumes, errant kings, miserable angels and a real baby portraying the baby Jesus capture all the magic and fun in waiting for Christmas Day.

When I was at infant school we were taught sign language to accompany the lyrics so that everyone could join in, impressing upon me and my peers from a very young age the inclusive power of music and performance.

‘Away in a manger, no crib for a bed.

The little lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.

The stars in the bright sky

Looked down where he lay.

The little lord Jesus asleep on the hay.’

All the very festive best,

Imogen x

Hello booklovers,

Advent is flying past and it isn’t long until the festivities can truly begin. I do hope you have been enjoying our festival Advent calendar and that it has been adding an extra bit of festiveness to each passing day. Day 17 on our Advent calendar comes from local business proprieter John, who has selected a few of his favourite carols to share with us.

John writes…

‘I have been rather greedy and chosen two favourite carols. They are from each end of the musical and the time spectrum. The first ‘Personent Hodie’ is probably the oldest carol still played today which has its original words and its original music. The tune has its roots in the medieval dance carol and the gloriously ‘wonky’ metrical pattern  almost forces you to stamp your feet and shout “Yea”. Very striking is the repetition of a single note in line six (eg vir , vir, vir) and this is great fun to sing.

My second, ‘Jesus Christ the Apple Tree’, is late 20th century and by the renowned composer and expert on folk song Elizabeth Poston. It is contemplative, serene and meaningful and has an achingly beautiful melodic line.’

It’s so interesting to see beloved carols from different eras! Follow the link below to have a merry listen to ‘Jesus Christ The Apple Tree’.

All the very festive best, until tomorrow!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cm3fZDZxiko

 

Hello booklovers,

I hope you enjoyed our first installment of William’s take on the carol ‘Good King Wenceslas’ as much as I did. As promised, the conclusion to the tale if our offering behind today’s Advent door. Enjoy!

William writes…

“Brother, it is good to see you on this cold night.”

Wenceslas tried to look unmoved, but this was the first time that evening that he allowed himself to feel the knife edge of fear. What had been a dark, empty street ahead was now filled with lamplight. Burning torches. Dozens of them.

Flurries of snow swirled around the flames and darted for the ground. Wenceslas’ eyes switched from these to the wooden church, closer now in the foreground. Then to the bearded figure, well shorn, eyes all the more alight with the reflection of the leaping flame.

No one moved, though Wenceslas’ guards tensed their arms about them, gathering their unsheathed weapons close.

“You were expecting me, brother?” Prince Boleslav asked. He was hurt – and his tone said as much. And after the initial shock there was no malice in his eyes. Just weary resignation to the suspicion and recrimination that was set to come his way.

Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. The words hung heavily on Wenceslas’ mind. Boleslav surely comes in good faith. And if he does not, then he will answer to God.

            And perhaps to me.

            Wenceslas gestured to Jira Bohdan, his captain of the guard. He lowered his sword, and Wenceslas walked forward, past him, to his brother.

The duke held out his arms and the prince received him. And no words were exchanged in their embrace.

When Wenceslas did feel the pain he had anticipated, it was not from the front.

Gasps, panicked words, ricocheted from both sides across the snow drizzled cobbles of that unhappy street.

The duke wheezed as his brother held him by the shoulders. Boleslav’s face was frozen as he looked down at his elder brother.

Wenceslas’ lips pursed.

“Why?” he whispered.

“A brother does not kill a brother.” Boleslav’s face, though firm, betrayed confusion. Roughly he shoved Wenceslas to one side and drew his sword.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Jira Bohdan stammered and stumbled over his words. It was what we had agreed. I thought this was as you intended, my lord.

            Wenceslas took advantage of the distraction to stumble off, clutching his stomach in the wake of stunned onlookers. He looked up. Delirium began to cloud what he saw. The church.

Wenceslas made off for it as a scuffle developed behind him. More steel was drawn. He took a jog, stumbling over the crisp snow on the flagstones. He wheezed, wincing as he coughed up blood. The church door was ahead. God will look after his children.

            Boleslav’s men clashed with his guards now – a confused mass of men confounded by the increasing swirling snow. Wenceslas fell down with a thump in the church doorway. More pain. He clasped his hands in front of him and began to pray.

“My lord, forgive me for my sins, for those I have committed against you and others – ”

Rushed panicked words. His heart thundered.

“What sins are these, Duke Wenceslas?”

In his fever, Wenceslas’ eyes for a moment stayed on his now frozen hands.

Is this the son of God? Is this the end? Is Jesus – German?

            Wenceslas realised that it was not the end. That God had not yet sent his only son to collect him from this mortal earth. That God instead had sent his truest friend in all the world, that he might not die alone.

“Otto,” Wenceslas chuckled breathily, “In God’s name, I am glad to see you.”

“You are hurt, lord,” Otto said simply. The man panted, but crouched above Wenceslas, rooted to the spot, quite unsure what to do.

“I am glad you are here,” Wenceslas breathed, “Bringing you flesh and bringing you wine surely turned out more than just mere charity.”

“God knows it sir, I am grateful.”

Wenceslas smiled up weakly at the gormless German peasant, still stunned by the events he had just witnessed. Wenceslas was stunned too, but content now, more so than even when he had set foot in the town of Brandys that morning.

“God knows it I am grateful Otto. To you and to the Lord Almighty. Both have given me such a parting as I could not have anticipated or hoped in all of my years on this earth. Make yourself safe, and be Merry, and be right with God, so that this final meeting will not have been in vain.”

———————————————————

And so finishes the true tale of St Wenceslas. Thank you to William for a fascinating combination of historical fact and literary flair. If this has whet your appetite for more tales of Saint W, then why not try ‘Wenceslas’, a poem by Carol Ann Duffy?

All the festive best, until tomorrow!

Hello booklovers,

Today’s Advent calendar contribution comes from festival volunteer William, who brings us our next two parter with a short story depicting the tale of ‘Good King Wenceslas’. Read on and enjoy…

William writes…

‘Wenceslas: The exalted death of an unhappy ‘King’

He knew of whispers of the plot long before it was enacted before him.

            He has handed our freedom to the Germans.

            He would sooner pray than fight.

            Why does he rely on the false god, Jesus Christ?

            Wenceslas still ruled an unhappy land and he knew it, and as he clasped the wooden cross to his neck. The icy wind blew from the east, rippling across the dark cover of the river’s surface. A thin strip of cloud stroked the south edge of the moon, but a bright moon it was that illuminated his weathered face, just as it projected the sharp edge of the parapets of Zamek Brandys, a family palace in the heart of an oaken castle. Wenceslas shivvered, but it was just with cold. He felt safe. His woollen hatted soldiers guarded him on every side. And beyond that, he knew that his being was safeguarded by a power beyond anyone’s true comprehension.

But the tension of his men stood as on the edge of a knife – and though Wenceslas did not feel it himself, he understood their fear. Too many were used to old ways and old gods. The fear of pain. Of failure and of death.

Not that I do not fear these things, Wenceslas mused. But I have cause not to fear them as much.

            He shivvered again. Another gust of wind.

“My lord?”

“Fear not, Otto, it is just the cold.”

Otto – a German, a peasant man turned good by the king’s magninamity – his kindness – had a great deal to fear.

“But where are the townsmen, my lord – ”

“Tush, man. It is cold – and the peasants of this town know not to trouble the Duke on his way to see Prince Boleslav.”

Wenceslas was minded to correct Jira Bohdan, his captain of the guard, but his kept his silence, his cool. Normally the peasants would be everywhere, curious. Something was not right here.

Out of the corner of his eye Wenceslas saw the town church, and he was comforted that whatever befell them, these folk were Christian.

But perhaps I have put them in terrible danger. A pang of conscience. He kept this silent too.

“Did my brother say where we would should meet?” Duke Wenceslas asked the captain, “I would have thought his castle would be much the most appropriate venue for our – ”. His words drifted as he recalled how he had left his brother on such bad terms. Wenceslas remembered how his face had burned with such rage at his brother’s defiance. But that was years ago – the German treaty and the tribute a more distant memory. Wenceslas felt calmer now.

God is with me.

            The thought filled him as he proceeded, in silence, surrounded by his armed guards and by the chill of the winter breeze.

And the stares of silent onlookers, awaiting their chance.’

Intrigued? Keep your eyes peeled for part two tomorrow.

All the very yuletide best until then! x

Hello booklovers,

I get the lovely job of picking the festive song for our Advent calendar today. In true mellow and festive fashion, I have picked ‘The Christmas Song’, one of my all time favourites which never fails to cultivate that warm Christmas feeling.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose…

Funnily enough this beloved festive classic depicting the cosiest scenes known to man was written by Robert Wells and Mel Tormé during an intense summer heatwave! Apparently Wells was trying to think cold thoughts to stay cool on a baking hot day.. and forty minutes later the song was written. Best known for Nat King Cole’s beautiful rendition, this song has been covered by many other artists, including Mel Tormé himself and the one, the only, Michael Bublé! Mr B’s album is a regular musical feature in our house and always reminds me of decorating the Christmas tree – by the time ‘The Christmas Song’ is played we are usually putting the star on top of the tree,  swiftly followed by a large cup of tea (or something stronger and mulled…) The wonderful lyrics pinpoint the quintessential warmth of the festive season which deep down we are all striving for in this strange and sometimes scary world of ours. After the events and changes that the year brings it is so comforting to return to that lovely, familiar music.

Merry wishes, until tomorrow!

Imogen x

Hello booklovers,

I hope you are feeling suitably festive as we draw closer and closer to Christmas day! Today’s musical choice comes from our wonderful committee member Jez, who recalls a tune from her childhood Christmases, ‘In Dulce Jubilo’.

Jez writes…

‘The hymn I have chosen is In Dulce Jubilo.  It was my favourite when I was at school and I still can’t resist joining in when I hear it sung. I think I liked the mixture of English and Latin – I loved Latin (which my friends thought was very strange) – and it has a lovely alto line, which makes wonderful harmonies.  Like other advent carollers, I always prefer singing the alto or descant where possible.

In Dulce Jubilo is one of the oldest carols, with original words in a mixture of mediaeval German and Latin, written around 1328.  The melody first appeared in a manuscript held in the Leipzig University Library around 1400, and became publically known in hymnals around 1533.  The tune spread throughout Europe, and English words were added in place of the original German.  During the nineteenth century it was arranged in four voice parts, and one of the most popular versions sung today is based on Robert Lucas Pearsall’s 1837 composition.  There are several variations on the English lyrics – Katherine Jenkins sings one very similar to the one I remember from school.

 In Dulce Jubilo is the second most popular choral Christmas carol among cathedral organists and choirmasters.  I was listening to Saturday Live  on Radio 4 the other morning, and Prue Leith, who was one of the guests, said that it was her favourite as did an expert on ancient carols.  It starts as a celebration of the baby Jesus in the manger, and on his mother’s knee, develops through his sacrifice and a plea for him to take us with him, to a description of the angels singing and bells ringing in heaven:

Ubi sunt gaudia?                                             (where are joys?)

In any place but there

There are angels singing

Nova Cantica                                      (new songs)

And there the bells are ringing

In Regis Curia                                     (In the court of the King)

Oh that we were there.

The music starts quite simply but ornamentation is added until that last verse which goes all out with complex harmonies and trills.

When I hear this carol, I am transported back to St Nicholas Church in Harwich in the 1950/60s.  Our headmaster was very keen on choral singing (if you were good at singing and/or games, you were guaranteed an easier life!)  We always had a carol service at St Nicholas which included bits from Handel’s Messiah, (And the Glory of the Lord, with the altos leading – our moment of glory!) and other great choral works, and always including In Dulce Jubilo.  In those days, churches were not adequately heated, if at all, and St Nicholas was so high that any heat disappeared into the roof.  In the choir, we were not allowed to wear jumpers or cardigans over our pristine white blouses, and so against the cold we wore layer upon layer underneath, ending up looking like rows of little Michelin men!  Despite the difficulty of breathing deeply enough to sing under those restrictions, it was a night I always looked forward to and remember with fondness.  So when the Nine Lessons and Carols from Kings College is broadcast on Christmas Eve, I shall be singing along to In Dulce Jubilo, and other carols, and though in the warm and without the layers, that old magic will return.’

I think Jez has really captured here the effect that Christmas music has on you, transporting us back to the songs and carols we sang as children. My heart is thoroughly warmed now!

All the very festive best, until tomorrow!

Hello booklovers,

I can’t believe we are half way through Advent already. Today’s festive tune comes courtesy of Anna, who you may recognise as the author of advent door number 5, Paul McCartney’s ‘Pipe’s of Peace’. Anna has selected ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’, with words by Bishop Phillips Brooks and music arranged by Ralph Vaughan Williams.

Anna writes…

‘As a child, I attended a Church of England primary school in the suburbs of North West London, and was therefore regularly to be found in the attached church, Holy Trinity, Northwood. My life was punctuated by the Christian festivals we celebrated throughout the year, and I learnt to spot that when our vicar donned his purple robe in Winter, Advent was upon us again, with all the excited anticipation of that season, backed by the singing of all my favourite songs and carols. Fever pitch was reached at 3pm on 24th December when the annual crib service commenced, and O Little Town of Bethlehem launched our procession down the aisle to the back of the Church and the familiar Nativity figures waiting for us once again, gathered around the manger. We bellowed out those beautiful words about the town far away, still and dark, yet filled with everlasting light, but woe betide any of us who carried on bellowing into verse 3!I  If “How silently, how silently” wasn’t clue enough, a quelling look from any of the grownups present could hush even the most strident, over excited young singer.

I always felt that Christmas could begin for me during this most quiet and beautiful verse, so effective in its gentleness to my ears, amid the noise and clamour of this wondrous season. Over 45 years later the memories of those crib services, and the images of the birthplace of Christ created in the words of this carol, remain as vivid as ever. I have not been to Bethlehem, but Bishop Phillips Brooks, an American Episcopalian in the late 19th century, was so inspired by his visit there for one Christmas Eve service in the Church of the Nativity, that he left us this beautiful carol as his commemoration of that event, to become part of our memories and our Christmas traditions. What a legacy.’

What a lovely memory of a childhood Christmas, and a beautiful choice of carol.

Plenty more coming tomorrow booklovers, yuletide best until then!

Hello booklovers,

The 11th advent door holds a much loved festive tune, paired with a poignant message thanks to Mike, newcomer to the festival.

Mike writes…

‘Let’s face it, the real hero of the festive period isn’t Santa Claus, it’s Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Without that slightly mutated young buck jumping to the rescue on that ever so foggy Christmas Eve, Santa could have been lynched. In essence, Rudolph single hoofedly saves Christmas. And that is why this song is still so beloved today despite being written over eighty years ago. It appeals to that very British love of the underdog, one that overcomes adversity, comes to recognise his true potential and achieves greatness.

What’s not to love about this heartening tale? Apart from the faint possibility that Santa is an exploitative tyrant who only uses Rudolph to further his own ends, not much. Even today the merry tune contains quite a few moralising and meaningful lessons. Namely, that it is wrong to judge others based on their differences. For those who are bullied, teased and treated like outcasts for being considered weird, dorky or a loser is sadly still too often an occurrence for many children. A prime example is the recent footage on social media of a fifteen year old Syrian refugee being water boarded by another pupil at a school in Huddersfield. The boy’s left wrist is already encased in a plaster cast, the result of a previous attack. Clearly, there is a need for both children and adults to learn the value of showing kindness to others. This message hasn’t been lost. Indeed, over £130,000 has been raised for the Syrian boy by the general public since the assault. We should not overlook the simplicity of this Christmas fable in showing us the nastiness of bigotry and prejudice and the import of embracing diversity.’

Christmas is certainly a time to reflect on the year that has passed and what we can do to make the next one better.

All the very festive best, until tomorrow!

Hello booklovers,

I don’t know about you, but I have really been enjoying the contributions from our lovely volunteers and committee members over the past week or so. Today it’s over to me to pick your carol for today and I have selected ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’.

Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn King…

All I have to do is hear these words and feel festive. With lyrics written by Charles Wesley, this carol first appeared on the festive scene in 1739 in a collection named Hymns and Sacred Poems, under the title ‘Hymn for Christmas Day’.Wesley actually wanted a slow and solemn tune to accompany his lyrics, completely contrasting the rallying and uplifting music that we all know and love. Let’s face it Charles, Christmas is not a time for solemnity. So thank goodness for English musician William H. Cummings who adapted a tune by Felix Mendelssohn to fit Wesley’s lyrics. I must warn you all, that descant is not to be attempted by amateurs who wish to be taken at all seriously – case in point, myself and a few friends heading attending our University carol service, attempting to sing the descant of the final verse of Hark the Herald Angels Sing… cue much voice straining and embarrassment that no amount of mince pies afterwards can cure. Still a happy memory, regardless of the musical shame!

Angels seem to be a particular favourite craft activity from my childhood. We have many ‘angels’ (I use the term tentatively) kicking about, lovingly hand made from elderly gold tissue paper and lace doilies, clinging on to the twenty year old glue holding them together. My lovely mum relentlessly brings out my brother’s ‘Scary Angel’ from the loft every year to put on display with all our other, much nicer, much classier, Christmas decorations. His earliest craft effort is living proof that, from the tender age of five, he was not destined to be an artist.

On that happy note, have a listen to the video below for pure, classy, festive caroling joy.

 

All the very best, booklovers, until tomorrow!

Imogen x

Illustration courtesy of Margaret Tarrant, ‘Christmas Tree Angel’ circa 1920s