CALENDARS

I know I’m getting older, but… when did Advent Calendars stop being for children and morph into expensive and sometimes ridiculously extravagant self-gifts for adults? As my cousin wrote this morning: ‘What is with these hundred-pound-plus beauty advent calendars? Have we gone completely crazy?’

It's a stretch to go back to my childhood these days, but I vividly remember the excitement generated in our home by my parents handing out Advent Calendars. Each had a Christmassy picture printed on to a foolscap (sorry… A4-ish) sheet of card, with the usual little doors cut into the scene and numbered. Every day the opening of a door revealed a little picture, and I can still feel the delight, and hear the loud proclamations from my younger brother that his was the best. Sometimes the numbers were hard to find, hidden in the detail of the Calendar. The pictures were very simple: robins, holly, lights, a church… but the best was always the last on Christmas Eve: a Nativity scene hidden behind a larger, or perhaps even double doors.

At some point Advent Calendars became more complicated and chocolates replaced the pictures hidden behind the doors. I suppose this heralded their transformation into adulthood. I’m not yearning for the past, but my nostalgia for a simpler, less self-indulgent lifestyle can’t be swept away by today’s richer offerings.

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A year ago, as I was recovering from my first cataract operation, choosing and sending Christmas cards and gifts was a struggle. This year sees a new ‘normal’ and I threw myself into the task with renewed enthusiasm. And this year everyone in the family is getting a personalised calendar! I started with a ‘Family History’ version for M, which led to a ‘Cars and Old Family Photos’ one for my brother. I sorted through hundreds of old photos to arrive at suitable choices for each month of the year 2020. I spent several days wading through childhood scenes, prompting memories and even dreams of our childhood, before reaching December. Even my computer seems to have been taken with the idea, for some inexplicable reason seizing upon this old photo of C, (which incidentally my transfer from a slide has mirror-imaged) and making it the start-up photo when I log into Windows!

The rest of the family will receive smaller calendars with ‘Garden Scenes’ taken from my huge collection, some of which are visible on my website (here: https://www.prfordauthor.com/gallery). Once these were complete and saved to a ‘basket’, the printing company was keen for me to purchase a variety of other gifts, all sporting my photos. Soon, little magnet calendars, cards and a mouse mat were also in the ‘basket’. I’m a sucker for this kind of thing, and was easily drawn into such temptation! However, the results have been well worth the effort, and I can only hope that the members of my family will appreciate their calendars as much as I have enjoyed making them.

Roll on the next round of tasks: the Christmas cards. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you: I'm also knitting everyone a scarf... 

STAMMERING

Listening to the author David Mitchell on the radio this morning, I pricked up my ears when he began to describe his ‘speech defect’. I would never have known that this articulate man, from whom words poured so easily, has a stammer. He described some of the problems he suffered at school: dreading being asked a question in class, or to read aloud. Even the social situation of being asked whether he would like tea or coffee became a challenge, because coffee was his preference, but tea was easier to say without stammering.

At school the smallest difference becomes a focal point for other children to seize upon. Not only did I have red hair and an unusual name, but I wore glasses from the age of five. Easily identified, not only was I the butt of jokes, but was forever being singled out by teachers. I was lucky, because I could answer their questions easily, and I didn’t mind reading aloud. Heaven help me though, if I was caught doing something wrong. Sometimes I felt guilty, even when I wasn’t!

The character Daniel Kettlewell stepped into my latest book ‘Stopping Time’ quite unexpectedly. I’ve worked with stammerers in the past, and the memory of one particular man – who had risen to a senior position despite a very bad stammer indeed - gave me the confidence to include such a person in the book. Not that I had much choice - my characters tend to insist on their inclusion, haunting my thoughts until I begin to define them.

Daniel is definitely one of my favourite characters. He doesn’t play a leading role, but he’s a solid, reliable young man, whose stammer has given him patience and understanding.

‘Helen recognised him at once as Daniel, another accountant she’d come across when attending work-related seminars. He spoke with a bad stammer, but they sometimes conversed over coffee, as fellow social misfits.’

It was important too for Daniel’s interaction with other characters to be as true to life as possible.

‘Julia considered how difficult it might be for him to describe what had occurred. ‘No,’ she corrected herself, feeling a little guilty at the thought, ‘it’s no problem for him - just so painful to listen to.’ '

Stammering is one of those afflictions which tend to be most noticeable - and most keenly felt - in childhood. There are methods of relaxing to ease the frequency of the stammer, and I believe singing can be of benefit. If you are affected by a speech defect, or know someone who is struggling, there is a good deal of useful information on the internet as well as this link to an article by David Mitchell, to whom I referred at the beginning of my blog: https://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/magazine/david-mitchell-stammering-kings-speech

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Here we are in November already, with a waterlogged lawn that needs a final mow, the central heating turned on and an election looming. Gloomy stuff indeed, but on the odd sunny day the air is fresh and the smell of wood smoke nostalgic. And I almost forgot to mention the trees... not quite as good as last year, so my photo is of a glorious scene along the road into Okehampton a year ago.