Recycled Santa

It's a bit of a family tradition for me to belt round to the grandchildren on Christmas eve with small presents. In the early years they thought it was the real Santa paying them a special visit, but that didn't last too long. Just couldn't disguise myself or the voice well enough. So now the Dummy Santa pays a visit.

In my glory days I had a proper audience... used to do a gig for the local playschool. That didn't always go too smoothly, as you can read at Santa's desperate sprint to safety. With the passage of time the outfit is starting to look a bit moth eaten, but I've decided I'm going to stick with it. It'll add more fun if I turn up each year looking a bit worse than the previous visit.

This year saw a new variation on the theme. The family spent the afternoon at The Dolphin, part of which involved me and Barry seeing how far we could get through the alphabetically arranged single malt whiskys. So no chance of using the car, and going on foot was out since a half way stop for a cup of tea on the way home meant I was short of time. The sausages would be eager to get to bed and let the real Santa work his magic! It was time for a new innovation... the cycling Santa!

So St Ives was treated to the spectacle of a rather bedraggled (no time to put a crease in the trousers) and somewhat inebriated Father Christmas on a traditional sit up and beg Pashley bike pedalling for all he was worth. Quite a few comments along the way, particularly as customers outside The Haywain were treated to a flash of red hurtling by. And quite a few puzzled looks from children. You can just imagine the conversation...

Child: 'Why is Santa on a bike?'

Parent: 'His sledge must have broken down.'

Child: 'How's he going to deliver all the presents on time then?'

Parent: 'He'll just pedal really quickly.'

Child: 'He doesn't look like he could pedal quickly. He's wobbling all over the place.'

Parent: 'He can go a lot faster than that'

Child: 'He must be trying too hard now, he's just fallen off.'

The trip was completed successfully, and I fully expect it to become a feature of every St Ives Christmas Eve. For next year I'm thinking of introducing a papier mache reindeer head on the front of the bike. Well, you've got to make an effort to keep things fresh, haven't you? Nothing less will do than crowds of well wishers blocking the pathways, being pushed back by Police, to encourage me along the way.

Merry Christmas to all Allotment Heaven readers, and thanks for sticking with the posts in 2011.

All aboard the Orient Express!

Here's a photo record of our wonderful day aboard the Orient Express with Christmas lunch, my 60th birthday present from family both in St Ives and Scotland.

The Northern Belle Orient Express arrives at Peterborough on time!

Beth sees us off from the platform.

All nicely laid out for Christmas lunch. Wonder what's on the menu?

Here it is... looks like we're in for a treat.

The surroundings are rather sumptious, the seat sooooooooo comfortable.

First we head across The Fens at a leisurely pace.

With champagne served (red wine for me).

We glide past Ely within sight of the cathedral.

Whenever we go through a station we get lots of envious looks. Even this sparrowhawk had a good stare... maybe he knew what was for main course.

First course... juniper marinated salmon accompanied by a cucumber jelly.

Some musical entertainment before the next course...

... which is spice parsnip soup served with a toasted cumin creme fraiche.

Then the main course... breast of Lincolnshire partidge on a roulade of goose, cranberries and chestnuts accompanied by a chateau potato, sprout puree and a pomegranate jus.

After views of many pretty villages we glide past the Olympic Park in the East End of London.

Past Arsenal's football stadium.

There were a few unscheduled stops.

A view of the Alexandra Palace, cruising away from North London.

More entertainment from a magician. He put his pen through a £20 note of mine and removed it again without a trace of damage, right in front of my eyes... still haven't a clue how he did it!

Oops! Enjoying myself so much, forgot to snap the cheese and biscuits. Here's the sweet that followed... chocolate marquise on a kendal mint chocolate biscuit and an orange comfit and kumquat. A mouthful in more ways than one.

As evening fell we headed back across the fens to Peterborough.

To be met at Huntingdon station by smiling faces... Beth and Connor come to chauffeur us home at the end of a wonderful day.

The Living Years

Today is my dad's birthday. Happy birthday dad!

It's the first time in my life I haven't been able to wish him a happy birthday. He passed away on Friday 08-July this year. You can read just a few things that made my dad special at the post on my dad

I've shed a few tears now and then thinking about dad. Listening to the song 'The Living Years' by Mike & the Mechanics makes me feel really sad. It's always been a favourite of mine... a classic song delivered well with thought provoking words. I've shown the lyrics below and you can view a video of a live performance by clicking here.

The message? Pretty obvious, and put best in the final words of the book 'A Month in the Country' by J. L. Carr...

We can ask and ask but we can’t have again what once seemed ours for ever ... a remembered voice, a loved face. They’ve gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass.

So live for the moment. Smile often, laugh often. Enjoy life. Think the best of people. And cherish those strongest of bonds, those of your dear, dear family.

Mike & the Mechanics, The Living Years

Every generation

Blames the one before

And all of their frustrations

Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner

To all my Father held so dear

I know that I'm a hostage

To all his hopes and fears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper

Filled with imperfect thought

Stilted conversations

I'm afraid that's all we've got

You say you just don't see it

He says it's perfect sense

You just can't get agreement

In this present tense

We all talk a different language

Talking in defence

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel

Between the present and the past

We only sacrifice the future

It's the bitterness that lasts

So don't yield to the fortunes

You sometimes see as fate

It may have a new perspective

On a different day

And if you don't give up, and don't give in

You may just be O.K. 

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning

When my Father passed away

I didn't get to tell him

All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit

Later that same year

I'm sure I heard his echo

In my baby's new born tears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye