The Christmas Story Retold

It is 25th December in the year 0, in the middle of a bleak winter, with hard frosts. A young virgin called Mary, clad in blue and white robes, heavily pregnant with her son, travels on the back of a patient donkey along the hard dusty roads to Bethlehem, with her husband, Joseph, who walks alongside and leads the donkey.

When they get to the huge city, it is crowded and full of people who have arrived for the census. They visit three inns to get lodgings, but are told at each that there is no room. At the third, a kindly inn-keeper takes pity upon them, and shows them to a stable out in the back. It is full of animals, and curiously, is open all down one side, so that the inhabitants inside are in full public view. There is a Christmas tree at the side of the stable.

They gratefully enter the stable, and suddenly Mary realises her time has come. In the evening, she is delivered of her son, whom she names Jesus. She does not cry or scream at all during the labour. The little son is placed on a bed of hay in a manger, and left open for view. There are oxen standing by, and yet, although it is in the noisy city, all is silent, and the child does not cry. A yellow circle appears around the head of the baby and mother.

At the same time, a bunch of gentle shepherds, who have lit a fire out in the frosty fields, are told by the angel Gabriel to go and worship the baby and mother. They all go to the stable, with their children and a few sheep, and present a lamb to the baby, and bow down before the baby and his mother.

Also that very night, three Kings from the east came, and, following a star which came to rest upon the top of the stable, came in their robes and crowns and presented gifts to the baby, and also bowed down in front of the stable. Angels, seraphim and cherubim all fly in the sky over the stable, and the stars come out and twinkle on the frosty night.

Because of Christmas day, mankind lives for evermore. Because the Three Kings brought gifts, we swap also present gifts to one another. Because there was a tree outside the stable, we decorate trees in our houses. Because the bells of Bethlehem rang out to celebrate the birth, we too have bells at Christmas.

How lovely to remember this old old story as told in the Bible.

Cold Turkey

Today is the day of the Annual Company Christmas Dinner. The canteen, demesne of soups, sandwiches, lunches and snacks demonstrates its Christmas spirit by shutting its doors to the majority of the company and allowing a few select ticket holders in to partake of turkey and all the trimmings. If you have shown the foresight to purchase a ticket several weeks in advance, you can sit and enjoy your turkey before trooping back upstairs to sleep it off in the office.

I did not go for I do not enjoy turkey. In fact, I am sick to death of turkey and Christmas has not even arrived. From mid-November onwards, every eating emporium you visit will up its prices by about a third, and put turkey on the menu. Travellers to a sandwich maker can be rewarded with turkey and cranberry sandwiches. Public houses and taverns will serve spiced ale.

For those, like me, who do not like turkey, this is a lean season. If you eschew nut roast the pickings are even fewer. I buy shelled nuts for eating at work. They cost me £2.50 a packet all year. From November through to Christmas, instead of being "Roast Nuts Selection", they come in a packet with holly on it, and are called "Festive Roast Nuts" and cost £3.99.

I have one thing to say.

Bah! Humbug!

Independent Shops

We always hear a lot about how our High Streets are all becoming the same, with the same big name shops, and no variety. The poor local shop (for local people) has been hounded off by the giants with their cheaper prices and larger stores.

I always used to get a bit fed up of hearing this, and put it down to readers of the Daily Mail doing what they do best, and complaining. However, some recent experiences have changed my thinking. I bought an electric piano a couple of years ago. I shopped around on the internet, but felt nervous of making such a large purchase without trying something out. I duly attended my local music shop, One Man Band, and was shown various pianos by a knowledgeable young man, who listened to my requirement, and showed me the items that were in my price and function range. I made the purchase and was delighted with the service, the free delivery, and the call a few weeks later, to see how I was getting on with it.

Today, I was looking for some sugar tongs. I had looked everywhere. I found some silver ones, but I wanted functional ones. I looked everywhere I knew, and gave up. I then bumped into a friend from church. We chatted, and I informed her of my important mission. She immediately told me of a little shop around the corner. I never even knew it was there, me, who am a resident of Banbury for many years. What a wonderful shop. They have every type of every utensil you can imagine. I wanted to be in there making a wedding list! I could choose from three different tongs and made my purchase. I also bought a nice sugar bowl, which I had not expected.

Three cheers for local independent shops.

Now, where can I buy a nice milk jug????

A Question to ponder.

I spend all day at work wishing I was at home doing all the more important things I have to do in life.

At home, I spend all my time thinking about doing all the more important things in life, but feeling too tired to do them.

When I do do all the more important things in life, I find myself wanting to waste my time with a book, or on the internet and not doing them.

When I read a book, or waste time on the internet, I find myself wishing I were more organised and feel guilty for wasting my time.

And all the time, the clock ticks away, and I find I am nearer to 38 than 37.

Nige's Christmas News Letter

I am just doing up another news letter, but thought I would update you with the last one:

We find it really hard to believe yet another year has gone by. As we write from Nigelforde, we are relaxing after another busy week. Charlotte and I have just returned from staying with her parents in Provence, where we had such fun, and we are the proud new part-owners of a vineyard there now. Max (8), Amelia (7) and Jasper (5) are all well, and excited about the forthcoming season.

Amelia is just putting the finishing touches to a gluten-free Seasonal Pudding she has made at Monetessori - who would have thought that holly, with its nasty sharp edges and roots in pagan fertility rituals was such a dangerously inappropriate garnish? Charlotte and I felt quite ashamed of ourselves when we tried to help.

Max has got his friend Aloysius coming over the week - we are a bit nervous as he has a long list of allergies, but his mother assures us that tofu and lentils are always safe, and we can eat what we like as long as no meat is consumed while Aloysius is in the house. This is a bit of a problem for us (you know how Charlotte likes her food) but Delia has come to the rescue with a lovely recipe for pinenut encrusted mushroom bake. If we leave all the herbs, spices, cheese, egg, peanuts and soya out, this will be a delicious treat for us all. Amelia has also pointed out that this will have less food miles than the turkey - everyone knows that turkeys come from America after all. I did not have the heart to point out that we had only just bought it from the local farmers' market. After dinner Max and Aloysius will treat us to a trombone duet; they have been learning a piece by a Mr Stockhausen. I have never heard of him, but am assured by the Watkyn-Smythe's next door that he is all the rage in Dorking.

Amelia has been doing very well at ballet classes. Her teacher, Ludovika Tryptova wants to put her through to the National trials. We are naturally thrilled, but Amelia says that competition only serves to support ingrained class structures, and she is concerned about the effect on the boys, who have such a problem with testosterone. Charlotte did point out that seven year old boys don't really have testosterone, but Amelia says all the boys want to kiss Lucy fforbes-Buckingham, except Gervaise Grosvenor and Tobin Wriothesley, who are more concerned with perfecting their parts in the dance of the Little Swans.

Jasper is doing very well in his lessons - just last week he sent the Johansons' dog on its way with a cry of "Pestis, furcifer!". He really does enjoy his Latin so much. He has decided that his latest project is to translate Ovid's Ars Amatoria into Lithuanian verse. Whilst I don't want to discourage him, I do wonder if the Ars Amatoria is fully suitable for one of such tender years. Only last week he was chiding my brother-in-law for his lack of conjugal tenderness, and suggesting that more flowers and chocolates would help his marriage. Charlotte (of course) asked me to intervene. I suggested to Jasper that perhaps it would be better to attempt this project after starting school, as it might interfere with their own classical syllabus.

Charlotte is always busy and occupied. She is now the Secretary of the Housewives' Guild of Domestic Instruction, an organisation which exists to turn all women at home into domestic goddesses. Her classes in French Cuisine, Interior Decoration, and How To Care For Your Husband have all been oversubscribed, and we are delighted with her success. All the local husbands are very envious of me. However, this has called for some sacrifices, and so we have engaged a housekeeper to take care of some of the duties at home, because Charlotte is far to tired to do housework, or cook. She is a very nice lady called Rose. Her real name is Doreen, but Charlotte rightly pointed out that this was totally unsuitable, so Rose it had to be. Nonetheless, she does really well, and is missed on her weekly afternoon off. It is good to help the locals in our village in this way, and I feel we are really becoming part of the community. Amelia thinks we are oppressing the local working classes, and keeps giving Rose (whom she insists on calling Comrade Doreen) pamphlets inviting her to revolt, but, really, our little village is hardly the place for revolution, and I did explain that Rose might well end up being employed by less reasonable folk than ourselves. I was just speaking to Quentin Hamilton-Hicks the other day, and they only let their people take one afternoon off a month, and never let them eat leftovers as we do.

Alcatraz the rabbit died in March. This was very sad. I gently explained to the children that Alcatraz was very old, and had gone to a retirement home for old rabbits. Jasper wanted to know if it was under the laburnum tree, as Max had seen a rabbit-sized hole being dug there. Amelia drew me aside and said that I ought to try and to throw aside my Anglo-Saxon reserve, and confront the fact that Alcatraz was dead. I thought she seemed a bit upset, so bought her two guinea-pigs.

As for me, I have had a good year at work once again. I am still running the Management Administration Department, but Mr Turner says I might be up for a promotion to the Administration Management Department if all goes well. I immediately gave all my people a pep-talk on realising their potential. It sort of worked, though two have left and started their own consultancy up, but said that my example gave them all the motivation they needed. I am still busy restoring the lighthouse I bought last year, and hope to have it water-proofed soon. When the children are older, Charlotte and I hope to spend weekends there alone, and we only had thirty minutes together this week (interrupted by a call from the Vicar's wife, who needed a recipe for sloe gin).

Well, the children are ready to present to us their little play they have been working on. It is an updated version of the Nativity Play entitled "The End of Tyranny", and written by our own Amelia, so I must go. Charlotte and I do wish you and yours well, and hope to see as many of you as possible. I will send another update soon.

Nigel, Charlotte, Max, Amelia, and Jasper, and the Guinea Pigs, Marx and Engels.

Man 'Flu

I have had the 'flu.

Now, every time someone is off work, and has a head cold (an unpleasant thing, to be sure), they complain they have had the 'flu. Women always look down on any man with any sort of respiratory illness and dismiss it as man 'flu. It has therefore been OK for most people to make fun of my recent illness, or dismiss it.

'Flu is not fun. I was in bed for several days, and could not stay up for more than an hour at a go. I had a temperature, was flushed, my joints and head ached. I was not even well enough to be subjected to the horrors of daytime TV. Even now, three days after returning to work, I still feel washed out, and achy. Old people die from 'flu.

But I am back and daily feeling a little better. Watch out world.

World AIDS Day 2008

As part of World AIDS Day 2008, I am devoting this entry to the victims of AIDS/HIV disease, as bloggers worldwide unite against this terrible disease.

We all think we all know about AIDS/HIV. We all think we know who gets it, what happens, and how to avoid it. British people think it is an African disease. Straight people think it is a gay disease. Drug users think it is an American disease. Older people think it is a young peoples' disease. Gay people think it is something that happens to other people. Most people without it seem to think those who have the disease only have themselves to blame. Much has been written, and could be written. Here are my thoughts:

1. Let's stop blaming the victims.
I am ashamed that I once thought that people only had themselves to blame if they caught HIV. This is a gross injustice, and it took caring for a dying patient to teach me that we should treat all with love and compassion, and not be ready to point the finger. It grieves me to say, that once, I did. Don't make my mistake.

2. Let's all make sure we are being safe.
I am not here to impose or preach a certain sexual lifestyle to anyone. But remember that old people, young people, straight people, gay people, first-timers, old-timers, and many-timers all get HIV. Take the precautions. It it YOUR responsibility to do so.

3. Medication is great but....
Medication has moved on a lot since the first days of AZT. But it is not always effective. And the side effects are often debilitating.

4. Pressure governments and pharmaceutical companies.
Majority World Nations in Africa often cannot afford treatments. Pressure should be brought on governments and companies to provide affordable treatment. Life comes before profit.

5. Pray for a cure.

Above all, show love and compassion. Every HIV+ person is a real person, with family and friends. Statistically, you know five HIV+ people. They suffer from an incurable disease. They suffer discrimination, recrimination, remorse, and fear the future. Each of them is a precious child of God. Do all you can to show you love and care for them, right to the very end.