Bring out the Christmas Gourds. As a lover of all things pumpkin and an absolute Grinch of all things Halloween I have never really decorated our home with Pumpkinalia. Until a cold snap frosted these Gourds in a friends garden. Being somewhat cheeky I asked her if I could have some of her gorgeous gourds to use as models for a watercolour. Then fate took a hand and gave her Covid for fifteen days. We no longer met at the museum where we both work, until this week when four fat gourds landed in my locker. Just in time for Christmas!
Frost on this wonderfully warty gourd inspired me to create an unusual but personally pleasing Christmas centrepiece for the table.
Gilding on Gourds may become a new Christmas tradition. Advent 2022+ Twas the night before, the night before.
I really loved gilding the warty gourds and then pondered on the pleasure that could be gained from gilding a warty toad. Obviously that would be entirely wrong but a little digital magic and I have created my own Golden Toad, I am a happy woman.
When I was a child our annual holiday was always taken in Devon. Getting there, or here as it is now for me,involved setting off from Essex in the dead of night in order to be at Glastonbury by sunrise. We did this every year without fail. Not to mark a solstice but simply to experience the stones at dawn. We were nearly always the only people there. Our car the only one in a chalky stoned car park with minimal fencing not too far from the site itself. We had foil-wrapped bacon sandwiches which emerged from a towel filled cardboard box, in my memory they are vaguely warm with the bread damp from softened butter. We sat on a blanket with our backs against the chosen stone and my dad made tea with a primus stove surrounded by whatever new contraption he had invented to make the process more slick. We ate our sandwiches, drank our tea, watched the dawn, packed up and went on our way. Dawn was at about 5:45, we were usually at our destination of choice, in Devon,by about eight in the morning and would park the car somewhere, usually by the sea, and sleep until lunchtime when the holiday properly began. This all seems mildly eccentric with hindsight. Although this was the sixties my parents displayed no other outward appearances or attitudes of being in any way New Age. The last time we did this my dad had filled the Primus Stove with fertiliser instead of fuel. There was no tea that year and never again was the strange holiday ritual enacted. The Primus Stove did not survive the fertiliser incident and with the loss of this one item, the spell, whatever it was, was broken. No photographs have survived of these events. I suspect there weren’t any, there were only ever three people in our little family and a photograph could only ever have shown two.
I drive past Stonehenge many times a year and am never tempted to stop. Now the ancient monument is protected from human touch for most of the year. Commercialised and controlled in the name of heritage preservation. I feel the urge to be with those stones but not in any way that is possible now. A mass experience would not be the same at all, but perhaps I could tolerate it with a warm bacon sandwich in my pocket.
When seeking images for Advent+2022 this snowy image appeared. I was not really certain how I could weave it into a ponder. Yesterday @theoldmortuary went out for our works ‘do’ and a ponder was born. The Kings Head, Westmoreland Street, Marylebone was opposite The Heart Hospital where I worked for quite a while. On occasions, if a patient ‘got lost’ between the wards and various clinics they could be found propping up the bar or having a fag by an outside table. The Kings Head is like a country pub that has become rehomed in the city. Although not a regular occurrence it was not intimidating to have to cross the road in scrubs and go and find a patient. Sometimes they were obvious because they were there with their drip stand. The Kings Head was once the home of John Wesley.
He is the glue that sticks this ponder together.
Earlier this week when the weather was brutally cold and icy we decided on a very local pub as the location for our ‘works do for two’. Our journey would be easily manageable in the cold snap. A five minute walk to the Cremyl Ferry and a ten minute crossing on the Edgecumbe Belle to reach The Edgecumbe Arms on the Cornish bank of the Tamar.
Note below taken from Plymouth History Festival 2020
Cremyll Ferry
This ancient crossing is thought to have originated in Saxon times and was first documented in 1204. It was worked by rowing boat, then steam boat and now motor boat.
This postcard features a coloured photo of the landing stage at Cremyll Point, with the quay, Edgcumbe Arms and cottages in the background. The HMS Impregnable training ship in the Hamoaze can be seen in the distance. Bystanders and passengers are waiting on the quay and there’s also a horse-drawn carriage. It’s postmarked 1907.
This postcard also dates from the early 1900s and shows the other side of the Cremyll Ferry’s journey at ‘Admiral’s Hard, Stonehouse’. It features the landing stage and quay just off Durnford Street. The ‘Armadillo’ ferry is approaching. A horse and cart is waiting in the water at the end of the slipway, and several men can be seen in small boats alongside the jetty.
Yesterday the weather changed. South westerly winds blew the cold away and brought rain and stormy seas. The ferry crossing was rougher and longer than we have ever experienced. Longer because there are absolutely treacherous currents that run on this particular stretch of the river. The tides and weather of yesterday meant the ferry had to head out towards the sea to find a safe place to cross.
Waves were crashing over the boat and we rolled and dipped alarmingly. Alarmingly for a journey that most times we don’t notice. We were, of course in expert hands. Waiting for our return journey I discovered that John Wesley of Marylebone had made the same journey in difficult circumstances.
Wesley also uses the old name of this stretch of water. Crimble Passage which in itself is a useful addition to Advent+2022.
For someone born 60 miles inland, I have spent an extraordinary amount of time living on the coast. Yesterday I had a great day by the sea. In the morning I went to a post-Covid, reunion,social gathering of women in the majestic buildings of the Royal William Yard. Quite cheeky really as the word reunion did not apply to me. I had never met many of these people before. The cafe we met in has several massive sofas that can fairly comfortably sit ten people. I was not the only cheeky one. Lola and Hugo came with me because there is nothing they love more than a walk that terminates in a cafe. Lola is always a sociable soul, Hugo more reticent. By the time I left Lola had cuddled and been cuddled by everyone on the large sofa. I realise that makes non dog lovers recoil but there was no recoiling from her warm curly cuddles yesterday. Hugo noticed the attention she was getting and made slower progress along the row of laps. After a brief interlude of domestic admin* I was back for a small afternoon gathering of friends, mulled wine and rats.
We met in old Stonehouse pub that has recently reopened. A bar that also sells coffee and cake, a game changer for me. I am fairly certain I have never paired coffee cake with mulled wine before. It works. Hidden in the pub are four small rats. I plan to only ever find three, that way there is always a reason to return.
Did you say Quiche?Do you have any Coffee Cake?Yes, I am the Bass player, who’s asking?
* Who gives a crap about my domestic admin? There was a small order error when I ordered the festive toilet rolls. The error was quickly rectified, rather generously, by the company. Yesterday’s most pressing domestic admin task was to find homes for 100 toilet rolls.
42 rolls on each shelf.
Suddenly I have become the sort of person who over-caters for Christmas.
This joyful scene of snowy hospitality from Monday makes me smile because I am not contemplating trying to get to work with slippery roads and an unreliable train service. In the spirit of Advent+2022 it also gives me the chance to share a photograph that has never made it into a previous ponder. This snowy view or even the same view without snow is immediately outside Gipsy Hill Station in London. Gipsy Hill Station is the home of a very famous London cat.
Fanny has her own Twitter account.
I follow Fanny on her Twitter page and was pleased to see she approves of this year’s Gipsy Hill Christmas Tree.
When I returned home to Gipsy Hill Station and Fanny was on duty I would get a warmer welcome from her than the aloof and reserved cat I shared my home with. In fact even after the aloof cat and I moved to the West Country I would still get a more joyful sense of recognition from Fanny when I returned to my London home than ever I got from my own black and white cat.
Wreaths are more than just decorations. If you’re driving through town during the Holiday Season, you may see a Christmas wreath on almost every front door. Most people don’t think of the rich history attached to these beautiful Christmas decorations.
The word wreath comes from the word “writhen” that was an old English word meaning “to writhe” or “to twist.” The art of hanging Christmas wreaths originated from the Romans who hung wreaths on their doors as a sign of victory and of their status in society. Women usually wore them as headdresses as a symbol of pride, and also donned them during special occasions such as weddings. Additionally, the victors of sporting events in ancient Greece were given laurel wreaths; This tradition still being used to this day during the Olympic games in which the medals are engraved with sprigs of laurel.
Christmas wreaths are made by twisting or bending evergreen branches into a large circle which are then decorated with pinecones and a red bow. The circle shape of the wreath is made to represent Christ’s eternal love, his strength, and the creation of new life. Evergreens are commonly used in the construction of the wreath due to their heartiness throughout harsh winters and that they denote strength as well as immortality. Christmas wreaths in the Catholic tradition had four candles – Three of purple, symbolizing penance, and expectation, and one of pink to represent the coming joy. The four Sundays preceding Christmas day are embodied by the four candles that were lit each Friday of Advent at dinner along with a prayer. Similarly to Catholic customs, traditional Pagan wreaths were also evergreen circles consisting of four candles. These candles represented the elements of Earth, wind, fire, and water. Their wreaths were typically used in rituals that would ensure the continuance of the circle of life.
Christmas wreaths are a beautiful decoration for your home or office that can really show off your true holiday cheer. Spread that holiday spirit and buy a Christmas wreath for yourself or someone you love!
– Gerry Wilson
So now you know. About Wreaths and also where to find the Wilsons of Wilson. Advent+22 just keeps giving. It Our first wreath is up but I need to see how it looks in daylight.
This morning is sharply cold and crisp -1 outside as I write this, under a winter weight duvet and with the first cup of caffeinated tea working it’s warming magic. The picture above was a jumble of Christmas decorations waiting to go up in a shop last year. I love the crisp cleanness of them which is my excuse to use the image in Advent+2022. The big excitement with a -1 temperature is that my Elephants Garlic needs some really cold weather to give it the best possible start in it’s growing life. Good news for the garlic is almost certainly bad news for the tomato plants which are still producing red tomatoes. From the perspective of a warm duvet a morning spent clearing out the frosted tomato plants does not excite me too much especially as I need to do it as soon as some daylight appears because the rest of the day is busy.
Duvet shrugged off and the cold embraced. Sunrise was spectacular.Nothing more needs to be said. Tomatoes gone Advent+ 2022
This year Christmas feels squishy. For the first time in a couple of years it feels normal for me to hug people when we meet at festive events. I realise that not everyone feels like that, but I am, by nature, a hugger and now I feel free to go about my hugging business. Maybe with a more watchful eye to be sure I am not being inappropriate with someone who remains fearful, or who never liked hugs in the first place. Some people found Covid restrictions to be some sort of personal space Nirvana. Yesterday I met a friend at a musical event, our hug was warm fragrant and comfortable. The music was fabulous too.
In other news, that very conveniently leads me to the Advent+22 image, one of my granddaughters was in a school nativity play as one of the seven Kings. Possibly Snow Christ and the Seven Kings, who could begin to guess.
Thankfully being a woman of Essex heritage from the East I know that 7 Kings is not implausible. A picture that would never in any other circumstance appear in a pondering.
Having stumbled on a theme for Advent+2022 ( I am sharing random photographs that have never found their place in a pondering before) I find them easy to weave into the action or inaction of a ponder. The image above is the title of one of the chapters in the Book of Kells at Trinity College Dublin. If only Mulling was a verb, and not the name of the saint who is reputed to be responsible for this gospel pocket book, I could have written something witty about a book of pondering.
As it is I have to say that the Alexa moment mentioned in pondering #409 was just a day too early.
I had thought that being woken up with House music was not quite my early morning vibe, but I was wrong.
We have been sharing the care of our nine week old granddaughter. At 8-9 weeks she has added a new behaviour to her limited repertoire. Boredom! So when all the usual measures to make her happy and compliant failed, yesterday morning, Alexa stepped in and played House music at 8am. It worked an absolute dream. Swirling around the kitchen as if in the middle of summer in a Dance tent was exactly what a small person needed. Dublin again comes up with a picture to illustrate the exact scene in our kitchen. A stained glass window at Bewleys Oriental Cafe, a place that certainly deserves it own ponder one day. But for now in Advent+2022 the stained glass window exactly illustrates how I was feeling yesterday morning while loading the dishwasher with a small person happily gurgling on one shoulder and the Ministry of Sound remixing Iggy Pop on Alexa
Today is almost certainly the last day I will be able to harvest a red tomato 🍅 grown outside in the backyard. This is hugely significant for two reasons, I have never before achieved growing even one red tomato outdoors in any garden during my lifetime. This year our new location and probably the warmest year on record are the factors that have made this possible. Not newly sprouted green fingers on my own fair hands. The warm year had made our yard positively Mediterranean until late October. Since then the yard has grown a velvety carpet of mould. Like the set of Tolkiens’ ‘Middle Earth’ in the Lord of the Rings film franchise, everything is cloaked in green flock. The spring clear-up is almost certainly going to involve a pressure washer but maybe nature or the predicted cold snap will remove the green tinge in the next month or two. Today’s tomato is not a thing of beauty, I already know that, but in the spirit of Advent+2022 I can share a very pretty tomato from November, never before the subject of a pondering.
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