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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!