A peaceful day

I thought it might be a bit of fun to write down a list of our top 10 grown-up reads in 2010. Keen? You can never have too many book recommendations, after all.

Here's my somewhat eclectic list:

• The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows


• Stravinsky's Lunch by Drusilla Modjeska


• The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery (and The Gourmet as well.)


• A House in Bali by Colin McPhee


• Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie


• A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami


• A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf


• The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume


• Little Boy Lost by Marghanita Laske


• The Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett

So that's my list. I'm currently reading (and loving) Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood. What's on your list? What are you reading? I'd lurve to know!!

Hello Friends!

I'm posting today over at educating mother. I'd love it if you'd pop over there and have a read.

Do leave us a comment or two so that we know you've been, won't you?

Happy New Year everyone. See you in 2011!

Do you remember how you used to feel at the beginning of the summer holidays? Weeks and weeks of warm carefree days with nothing to do but amuse yourself and relax and unwind? Remember?

Alas, those days belong to childhood. Along with your graduation certificate, your last days of education signal an end to having all the time in the world to relax and do nothing. From then on you never have to freedom to dream. It is gone, along with your childhood.

Except for a few days each year between Christmas and New Year.

Those last few days of December, for me and my family, are the only time in our hectic whirlwind of everyday life when we organise and do absolutely nothing at all. We simply loll away the days doing just as we please. And all you need to do it is time.

So here is how we've been spending our time doing nothing, these last few days. Just in case you find yourself with time on your hands and nothing to fill it, and you want to do just as we are:

• Read the sublimely wonderful The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Isn't this the most beautiful book you've read all year?
  
  
  
  
• Read Thea Astley's Coda and ponder how easily Grannie Abuse can happen in civilised society. This is a book that will really get you thinking. What do you do when you can no longer live safely at home but you're certainly not ready for the Passing Downs Old People's Home?
  
  
• Read The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume (online here) - a murder thriller set on the streets of Marvellous Melbourne and first published back in 1886. This Australian classic novel is a real page-turner!


• Dip into Randolf Caldecott - His Early Art Career by Henry Blackburn (online here) - a fascinating memoir written back in 1886 soon after the artist's death. You'll love the wonderful pictures and the stories behind them contained in this entertaining book. If you can find an original edition like mine then I think you will appreciate why I am enjoying this book.
  
  
• Browse through A Family of Readers - The Book Lover's Guide to Children's and Young Adult Literature by Roger Sutton and Martha V Parravano, editors of The Horn Book Magazine. If you like to read about books as much as I do then you'll enjoy this guide to selecting books and its essays of how books are read to and by children today. I am.


• Play Board Games: Mousetrap, Monopoly and The Great Penguin Bookchase - the world's first board game about books, which, as I'm sure you can imagine, is a great favourite this Christmas. Strange, but I always lose these games. I personally think the others cheat...


• Pick fresh strawberries from your garden and eat them outside in the shade of the trees dipped in whipped cream with real vanilla and sugar. (It there anything more sublime than eating strawberries straight from your own garden?)


• Invent special Christmas cocktails. Raspberry Gin made from fresh raspberry coulis, gin and lemonade is a winner, let me tell you.


• Drink coffee from lovely Japanese pottery cups.


• Eat fresh white bread sandwiches filled to bursting with turkey and lettuce with cranberry sauce.


• Have a French Champagne tasting.


• Work in the garden tying up the tomatoes and eating the first cherry tomatoes of the season while nobody is watching.


• Watch The Hedgehog video together on the telly.


• Dutifully munch your way through the Christmas chocolate Santas. Lindt are tall, hollow and elegant; Caffarel Santas are short roly-poly skittles full of Gianduja. Personally, I like the skittles.


• Eat out at friends' places.


• Sleep in and lounge around in dressing gowns and fluffy slippers lovingly knitted for each of us by our dear friend Sarah.


• Consume mountains of nut bikkies, yoyos, shortbread and mince pies. Remember to make a wish on the first mince pie for each of the twelve days of Christmas.


• Complete Wentworth wooden jigsaws - 'Koi Carp' by B Lee, and 'An Early Taste for Literature' by Charles Conder this year. Very satisfying, jigsaws, don't you think?


• Tidy, weed and water the children's garden.


• Pick bunches of out-of-season sweetpeas for the kitchen table. Why did the pink ones survive best, do you think?


• Make elves from old wooden clothespegs with a creative Auntie.
  
  
  Jemimah's on the left; Auntie Kay's on the right

• Assemble, decorate and eat gingerbread house with a creative Grandma.
  
  

Bake biscuits, package attractively and deliver to residents of the local Nursing Home on Christmas morning. Make extra for the nurses and ancilliary staff on duty.

Marvel at how much you can get done when you're not doing anything. Have you been doing nothing too?

This video from SCM was helpful:

Father Christmas by Raymond Briggs.

It wouldn't be bloomin' Christmas without it:

Father Christmas Part 1
Father Christmas Part 2

So I'm thinking - Maybe I do want an iPad for Christmas after all. Santa, are you listening? Hello?

You know I love pop-up-books. And it goes without saying that I adore Christmas, so you won't be at all surprised that this is my new favourite book, right?

It's a classic, unabridged, beautiful copy of Dicken's A Christmas Carol, and Jemimah and I spent a good deal of time enjoying each and every page last night. Chuck Fischer's paintings are to die for, and paper engineer, Bruce Foster's intricate creations are incredibly clever. Each page is more beautiful than the last.

A Christmas Carol: A Pop-Up Book by Charles Dickens and Chuck Fischer is one of the books that I know I'll reach for first when the Basket of Delights is opened each year. It's a new classic. You'll love it. Well, as long as your kids aren't toddlers, you will.

Anybody else think the week before Christmas is just magical? Everything seems so much nicer, somehow. Shopping takes on extra meaning when it's for things like bon-bons and mixed chocolates and whole hams and a great big turkey. Even if you have to traipse Geelong to find just the right one to meet mother's approval. We've been making up beds for the family, and cleaning bathrooms. Even that's fun when you're anticipating their arrival over the next few days. Mum is coming tomorrow, my brother's family on Friday, and my sister and her lot arrive on Christmas morning. Jemimah is just beside herself.

We've been reading lots of lovely stories every morning - The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey by Susan Wojciechowski, one of this morning's stories, is among our favourites. This beautiful book about grief and healing, illustrated by the incomparable P J Lynch, never fails to bring me to tears. We always get something new from each retelling too. We're reading our way through Ruth Sawyer's The Long Christmas, one story at a time, and a chapter of Ruth Graham's One Wintry Night as day as well.

The unseasonal cool December weather has allowed for lots of cosy snuggling under Grannie as we idle away the days watching our collection of Christmas movies. A Christmas Carol today. It still scares Jemimah a little bit, so I get lots of hugs. Nice.

The kitchen table has been transformed into a Gift Wrapping station. Good job it fits ten, because wrapping takes up lots of room, and the three of us are tucked in amongst ribbon and gift tags to eat our evening meal. Last night we lost the family devotional under all that stuff. Daddy wasn't pleased...

My mother has been proving herself babysitter extraordinaire as she helps each of the Granddaughters make and decorate a gingerbread house. You'll see Princess Pea and her sister Princess Mini-Me's attempt above. Absolutely excellently fantastic, I think. Jemimah's turn is on Friday. Stay tuned...

Christmas music plays through the house, the space under the tree is filling with gifts, and lots of people are dropping by to give their good wishes and to bring small tokens of food and wine. Christmas cards line each available surface, and mistletoe hangs in the hall. Jemimah likes to station herself underneath to snare a kiss from the unwary whenever they need to pass through. Life seems so gentle. And so exciting. And so happy.

The nicest thing of all is that people make time for each other. There is no Sunday School, no basketball, no homegroup, no school. If you peep through our window you may find my Beloved and me writing Christmas letters. Jemimah might be entertaining her Daddy to trout pâté and crackers with a glass of wine in the cubby, or she and I might be dealing with Secret Women's Business at the wrapping station. Friends might be nibbling on a wedge of shortbread with their coffee.

With so many real life people to enjoy, I keep running out of time to blog. But I do think of you too, dear friends. I hope - whatever your traditions and whatever your beliefs about Christmas - that your days are every bit as exciting and deliciously satisfying as our December days are, here in our peaceful home.

It was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!

Charles Dickens

• Find the Christmas T-shirt.
• Visit Santa and David the Talking Tree in his Magical Cave at DJs.
• View the 2010 Myer Windows. The Nutcracker theme sounds promising.
• Buy last minute presents for a six-year-old nephew and twelve-year-old niece. (any ideas appreciated).
• Lunch at the Pancake Parlour.
• Find a few stocking stuffers.
• Order the turkey and ham.
• Remember my hairdresser's appointment at 3pm.
• Grab new edition of ku:nel from Mr Kitly (Note to self: It is not appropriate to buy yourself a gift one week before Christmas. Do not look at anything else.)
• Collect IKEA Gingerbread House from my brother's for Jemimah to assemble and decorate.
• Read a chapter or two of our Christmas read-alouds.
• Sleep.

Okay. Step one: Need coffee. Two maybe. Perhaps everything else will fit into place after that...

Who else is silly enough to be venturing into the city on the weekend before Christmas? What do you have to do today?

Jemimah's Daddy and I were showing off our skills with Cat's Cradle on Wednesday night, pulling the Xs and lines to make new and exciting shapes with a piece of string. Because that's what you do when there a bits of string left over from unwrapping the Christmas gifts, right? Only, much to our surprise, none of the other adults in the room could make anything at all!!.

Which made me wonder about you. Do you play string games with bits of string? Do you make the Parachute, the Eiffel Tower, the Cup-and-Saucer and the Butterfly? Do you trap your friends' hands in the Hand Trap? Do you know the story of the Candle Thief? Can you Cat's Cradle with the best of us?

It's been around a long time, Cat's Cradle. Charles Lamb played it with his school chums back in the 1780s, and George Eliot had Celia playing it in Middlemarch in 1869:

Celia had no disposition to recur to disagreeable subjects. It had been her nature when a child never to quarrel with any one - only to observe with wonder that they quarrelled with her, and looked like turkey-cocks; whereupon she was ready to play at cat's cradle with them whenever they recovered themselves.

According to Anne Akers Johnson in her book, String Games From Around the World, you'll find people playing with string as far afield as Australia's Torres Strait Islands, Alaska, Ireland, Paraguay and Ghana. Jemimah loves it at the age of eight, and her Daddy loves it at...well older than eight.

And so, if you've never tried playing with bits of string I would encourage you to give it a try.

If you can't quite remember the moves, Anne's two books, the one mentioned above along with Cat's Cradle, which I haven't seen, but looks equally as good, would be a good start. Alternatively, try this online book, String Games by Arvind Gupta. It contains most of the good stuff for free. Actually, I wonder about Indian copyright laws because it contains most of String Games From Around the World within its pages, but anyhow, it's quite good, and the diagrams are easy to follow. Unfortunately, I don't seem to be able to link to the page with a hyperlink. The address is:

http://www.arvindguptatoys.com/arvindgupta/stringgames.pdf

While you're at it, teach your kids. Apparently the parents in Paraguay are better at string games than their kids. It would be a shame if this activity died a death with the advent of television, wouldn't it? I could tell you that playing string games will improve your child's eye-hand coordination, and maybe it will. But I say play string games because you can do it alone or with friends. It is cheap, enjoyable, imaginative and safe. Most of all though, it is fun. That's what childhood's all about in my book.

We can't have our kids looking like turkey-cocks now, can we?

...this:



And reflecting upon how silly we Aussies are when it is 30°C outside and Jemimah is in the swimming pool and we are battling a plague of locusts.

Nice though, isn't it?

I suppose The Diary of a Wimpy Kid's position at number 1 on on the New York Times Bestseller List (for children’s series books) after 99 weeks means that I am one of very few parents who has not let my child read these books. Even though she is desperate to do so. I decided after only a cursory glance through a young friend's copy that books with cartoon figures peeing on each other did not constitute the standard of literature I had set as a minimum for my daughter. The "Rawley and me" grammar did not endear me either - kids have trouble enough speaking correctly without seeing the incorrect construct written. Personally I hate it when kids say real quick instead of really quickly, for example. Greg, the wimpy kid, says it quite often. He also uses words that we don't use in our peaceful home, with a sprinkling of blasphemy to boot. His brother, Broderick takes it further, saying things that I find totally unacceptable, and he reads things that Jemimah doesn't even know exist. No, this was not a book for me.

When the movie was released earlier this year, Jemimah commented that she supposed I wouldn't let her see that either, and at first I agreed. Only later, I relented. After all, I rationalised, it is not poor spoken grammar that worries me, it is seeing it in print that is my issue. Similarly, they couldn't really show bodily functions on the big screen...could they? And anyhow, I would be there with her, and we could discuss it afterwards if need be.

So we went the see The Diary of a Wimpy Kid - the movie last night.

And now I can discuss with you the reasons that I do not like these books from a position of knowledge instead of one of secondhand hearsay. Because I still don't.

Here's why.

First, the synopsis. Greg Heffley, the wimpy kid, is trying to make it through his first year of middle school. At the moment he estimates that he is currently somewhere between the 52nd and 53rd most popular. By the end of the year he wants to make the 'Favourites' page of the middle school year book. Greg's not really wimpy, but he does have a few obstacles to overcome in order to fulfill his ambition. See, the problem is, Greg is average. And prepubescent.

Let me just say for the record I think middle school is the dumbest idea ever invented. You got kids like me who haven't hit their growth spurt yet mixed in with these gorillas who need to shave twice a day.

Greg does have some strengths, but they're not the ones that get you recognised in middle school (which seems to be about the same as the first years of our Aussie High School, in case you're wondering.) He has a beautiful soprano voice, for example. Only being chosen to play Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz won't make you popular. Being small won't make Greg a good wrestler either, especially since it's real wrestling, not the fake stuff he's seen on TV. He knows all the tricks for the fake sort, but they don't help when you're put in the Chihuahua division and even the girls are Bull Dogs.

Greg is bullied by his obnoxious hoon of a brother, Roderick. The teenagers bully the younger kids. Greg in turn bullies his best friend, the nerdish but likable and loyal, Rowley. His parents show favouritism to his younger brother, Manny, who is generally depicted sitting on a potty at the kitchen table making...well...the noises one should make while sitting on a potty. Toilet humour abounds in this film.

Greg is looking for an easy way to become one of the cool kids. He doesn't want to work for anything and so he achieves nothing. And loses his best friend in the process.

It is amazing how somebody will stop being your loyal playmate when you constantly treat them as a punching bag. When Greg lets Rowley be punished for something Greg did, it is the last straw. As indeed it would be. Only, why is this funny? Should kids laugh at objectionable displays of moral character at the age of eight when they're still struggling to develop their own standards? I don't think so.

Greg Heffley is the hero of The Wimpy Kid, but he's no hero of mine. He is a bad influence on his friends, and I would not like my daughter playing with him. He loves violent computer games. He does not respect his parents. He is a liar and he is manipulating. He desire for popularity is meaningless and he will stop at nothing to get there. He is not a good friend. Watching his behaviour on the big screen was bad enough. I do not want my daughter identifying with this character through the pages of a book. Greg Heffley is a horrible boy.

Clearly I am in a minority here. The Diary of a Wimpy Kid has sold more than 37 million copies. Parents rave over the fact that their boys will read nothing else. I am sure I will get hate mail over this. But I don't care. (Well, actually, I do care - I want to be popular too...)

I do know that I am glad that I haven't allowed Jemimah to read this series. I am not particularly sorry that I allowed her to see the film. I think books create longer term relationships than films - lifelong friends in some cases - and I don't think this movie makes much impression at all. For what it is worth, Jemimah thought it was okay, but not that funny. She is also happy to know what all the hype is about and to know who the characters are.

I would love to hear what you have to say. Have you read the books? Did you like them? What about the film? Am I unreasonable? Do tell, only do keep yourself nice. Please.

By the way, the kids peeing on each other scene did make it into the film after all. I kid you not.

• A Bush Christmas by by Ralph Smart and Mary Cathcart Borer
  
  Five children head into the wild Warrigal Ranges just before Christmas, looking for the men who stole their father’s valuable mare Lucy and her foal. With the help of Aboriginal friend, Neza, they track the horse thieves through the mountains.
  
  
• Christmas at Longtime by Hesba Brinsmead
  
  This is my review from last year's post:
  
  Christmas at Longtime means family time to nine year old Teddy. It means Dad always forgetting to buy Christmas presents; puddings to prepare, almonds to skin, carols to sing, and no more lessons until next year.
  

  On Christmas morning, the year that Teddy was going on ten, the sun shone pumpkin-yellow, furze-yellow, eggs-and-bacon-yellow. Teddy and Jenny had been warned not to get up too early. But the question was, how early is early, on any Christmas morning? It was all very well for Mother to say presents were not what Christmas was all about. It was all very well for her to say - "It is more blessed to give, than to receive". True enough, giving was pleasant. But it was still blessed, thought Teddy, to receive. To receive was very nice indeed.

• It Happened One Summer by Joan Phipson
  
  The story of young English girl's first Christmas in Australia, spent on her uncle's sheep station. Jennifer has a lot to learn. Life is new and strange, but she settles in well, and two gifts under the tree (as it were) help her to feel very much at home. The book is interesting, and Jennifer's life is exciting and active, but it is the approaching bushfire that makes the book very exciting indeed...
  
  Read my full review here.
  
  
• Bush Christmas by C. J Dennis
  
  The classic poem written in 1931 paints a picture of an Australian Christmas in the bush - a Christmas still largely influenced by the traditions of 'The Old Country". Read my review and well as the whole poem here.
  
  
• A Joey for Christmas by Margaret Paice
  
  Sally and Davey are given a joey for Christmas. At first he is happy to drink from a baby bottle and sleep in his fur-lined bag, but then he begins to grows up. One day a huge bushfire sweeps through the valley. The family have to flee for their lives, but Sally will not leave Joey. This lovely book for young readers paints an evocative picture of an Australian Christmas - its heat, its drought and its bushfire. It is a great addition to our Basket of Delights.
  
  Six White Boomers by Rolf Harris and Bruce Whatley
  
  Don't cha just gotta sing Six White Boomers? This book comes with a great CD containing Rolf's songs, 'Christmas in the Sun' and 'Pavlova' as well.

Have you ever read Henry Lawson's The Ghosts of Many Christmases? Reading it aloud over the weekend it struck me what fun it would be to write Jeanne's Ghosts of Many Christmases, and so here I am. Perhpas you'd like to do it too.

First a short explanation in case you're confused. Lawson's short story/essay originally published in 1902 can be found on line here. It begins like this:

Did you ever trace back your Christmas days?--right back to the days when you were innocent and Santa Claus was real. At times you thought you were very wicked, but you never realize how innocent you were until you've grown up and knocked about the world.

Let me think!

From here he goes on to talk about Christmases past. It is a delightfully Aussie Christmas read. Do have a geek.

Now my Christmases have not been nearly as varied as Lawson's, who was only 35 when the essay was published, but that could be a good thing - a three page post would be rather a trial. Nevertheless, this indulgence is really more for me than you. These 'ghosts' of past Christmases have been all gathering together in my head for the last day or so, at it will be interesting to see what they produce.

So. Let us begin.

Christmas as a child. Old pillowcases packed with presents at the foot of each bed. The exquisitely agonising pleasure of awaking early and feeling the lumpy form all over to check that Santa had been. The ubiquitous 'Beep-Beep' toy hanging out of the top, his belly filled with delicious toffees and his foot long plastic legs filled with smarties. I could always ration my lollies to last until at least Easter, carefully prying each sweet from its home between the staples so as no to damage the cardboard Roadrunner body. I still do this with chocolate, much to Richele's disgust.

Christmas at Rosnashane. Christmas in my parents' catering business began in early November. For the last eight weeks or so of each year we'd host Christmas parties, big and small. Some weekends there would be three or four or more. Each would have ham and turkey and plum pudd with brandy sauce and cream. And so would we. Over and over and over. And over. By the time the 25th December arrived, turkey was as appealing to us as it was to the Woodlawn children in Caddie after they'd eaten their way through the unsold result of Mrs Woodlawn's turkey raising enterprise. We ate chicken.

Christmas with the cousins. My grandmother, Marga, presiding over the tables filled with Uncles, Aunts and dozens of Cousins. Aunts cooking dishes of tomato and onion topped with breadcrumbs. Yum. The serving-up assembly line. The way Uncle Tea always found a ten dollar note in his pudding while ours always had 20c. How did he keep it from getting wet and sticky? Two of my uncles preparing and then reading aloud humorous tales about each of us. Uncle Aitch's 'training tablecloth' - a crochet one where the little squares bored straight into your elbows if you dared rest them inappropriately between courses. They had a real pine branch as a tree too. It smelled divine. Ours was plastic.

Christmas in Gjøvik, Norway. My first white Christmas. Temperatures so cold that they warned about the enamel chipping off your teeth. -15°C, -20°C. Riding sparks around the streets. Cross country skiing and tobogganing. Watching the teens on the ski jumps. Finding the almond in the Julegrøt and winning the marzipan pig. Making homemade marzipan from egg whites and icing sugar and almond meal. Roast (radioactive) reindeer and Rødkål on Christmas Eve. The Christmas day dinner of Lutefisk served with a white sauce, melted butter, green peas, boiled potatoes, and mustard. Leaving a big bowl of risengrynsgrøt and a wooden spoon on the doorstep for the Julenisser. Hanging the longest football socks we could find at the end of the bed for Santa because my mother's cousin who I was staying with was Irish and he visited as well. Finding an orange in the toe.

Many many Christmas ghosts here. So many of my family's current traditions stem from this Christmas past.

Christmas at Craigelachie. While my parents were working Christmas was too busy to be properly enjoyed, but after they retired we pulled all stops. Turkey became desirable again with slices of baked ham. We were old enough to drink champagne served with baby radishes dipped in butter and salt. One year in a departure from tradition we ate antipasto in the veranda for lunch and left the turkey for dinner. The weather was perfect. So was the company.

Christmas in Chang Rai, Thailand. Missing my Mum and Dad who had just been to visit. Attending a Christmas church service with the local Thai congregation and hearing the ethereal singing of the Hill Tribe choir. Eating incredible Thai curries with everyone afterwards and speaking in sign language. Opening my Christmas mail alone in my room and missing everybody all over again.

Christmas Eve at my brother's. A new tradition - baked ham and boiled spuds and raspberries for dessert on Christmas Eve. Champagne too.

Christmas with my very own family. Creating our own traditions. Stockings by the chimney from Santa and presents from Mummy and Daddy under the tree. Drinking warm glögg while trimming the tree. Stir Up Sunday. Visits to Santa and the Myer Windows. The Basket of Delights and a Christmas story every day. Kissing under the mistletoe. Long summer holidays.

Christmas in July. My dear father was diagnosed this year with terminal mesothelioma on July 7th, four days before his 82nd birthday. We had the wonderfullest party you can imagine. Christmas in July. We ate turkey and ham and plum pudding. The table was decorated with candles and crackers. Carols were playing. Auntie Ai baked a great birthday cake and Mum decorated it. The children blew out 82 candles mounted in gumdrops on silver paper. Parsie gave each of us a gift from his tartan stocking and hugged each of us in turn. We took heaps of photos. We laughed and we laughed. And of course we cried. It will be hard to beat this Christmas. It was the grandest of them all.

The end.

• Remember when there really was service at the Service Station - when they filled your car for you, and then cleaned the windscreen while you signed the account? Ours still does.
• Country drivers still wave to each other as they pass. I like that. They leave their hands on the wheel and just raise their fingers. Gets too tiring otherwise.
• Everybody greets you by name in the High Street and asks how you are. They really want to know as well.
• They home deliver if you're stuck. They'll even deliver to your friend's home if you can't do it yourself.
• They still pack your groceries and carry them to the car for you. Even when you're parked a block away.
• You never need to park a block away.

Nice, isn't it?

You probably know by now that we lurve Christmas traditions around here. December in our home follows the same track each year with only a very rare derailment. Which is wonderful, but comes with an obvious caveat:

Never do anything this year that you're not willing to continue forever and ever and ever. And ever.

Our work Christmas Party is a case in point. It's tonight. Five or six years ago I volunteered to host it at our Peaceful Home, and six years later...you guessed it...it's still here. So this'll be a quick post, coz I'm rather busy.

I need to remember to bake the Pumpkin Gratin with Walnuts and Sour Cream for our Finance Officer. It's the only time she and her daughters eat pumpkin all year, and she loves it. Another staff member would kill if I forgot the Garlic Prawns grilled with Lashings of Chilli. I love the Asparagus with Hollandaise Sauce. Apparently it just wouldn't be Christmas without the Cheese and Spinach Dip and the Antipasto platter. Then I mustn't forget the Spiced Macadamias. They're our Admin Assistant's favourite. Imagine if one year I omitted the shortbread? Anarchy would prevail. Each year we must have bonbons and Kris Kringle gifts and Christmas music. And lots of chocolate. And champagne. But not too much. One must keep oneself nice at a work function, y'know.

I've managed to keep some things under control. Each year we have a different Christmas themed dessert. Plum Pudd with Brandy Sauce and lashings of Cream this year and big bowls of raspberries. We're barbequing steaks in a festive ginger marinade. That entered the tradition last year and will make its second appearance tonight. We'll bake potatoes in their jackets in the coals, and eat them with the pumpkin and the asparagus and some guacamole and a green salad. Sounds nice eh? I've thought carefully about their potential for creating a new tradition, and I think I can cope if they enter the realms of the unchangeable for ever and ever and ever.

And now I need to go cook. That's the other thing that never changes - by the time my guests arrive I'm ready to creep off to bed. That's become a tradition as well.

Ho Ho Ho

Coz it's just not Christmas around here without him.

ROFL (Harris)

Giggle

...for school.

I know, I know, it seems almost offensive to interrupt my non-stop Christmas cheer with school stuff, but like it or not, the holidays are disappearing with their usual undue haste, and the new school year will be here before we know it.

The first day of Ambleside Online Year 4 for Jemimah will be January 10th. As with previous years we will continue the relaxed summery feel with three weeks of intensive swimming lessons (Surely it will be warm by January. Surely!), but our work begins in earnest on that date. There is no easing into work in our Peaceful Home.

Cruel mummy, me.

With this in mind - the start of school, I mean, not my status in the cruelty stakes - I've been gathering together our AO4 books. Such fun placing them all neatly together in a row on their shelf at the back of my desk.

Of course, even after searching out second-hand copies for a number of years now, there are still many titles to purchase.

Now that is not as easy as it sounds. Ambleside Online does not dictate which edition of a particular book you are to use. It is up to you to find a good quality unabridged copy of each title, and that can take an inordinate amount of precious time. Time that I would rather spend reading Christmas books.

Fortunately, a couple of wonderful Ambleside mummas have produced lists to streamline the process a little, and I thought that I would put them here for those of you who are also using Ambleside Online for your kidlets and are not aware of them. Good of me, isn't it?!

The first is Your Key to the Resources for the Best Children's Books and was put together by Lisa Ripperton from The Baldwin Children's Literature Project at mainlesson.com. Here you'll find access to info on the books for each year of AO. Book covers are displayed - helpful for checking whether you have a book already - and you'll get a list that helps with buying the physical book, viewing it online, downloading an audiobook, or seeing supplements related to a book. It is all here.

Lisa also offers free online books for children that are in the public domain in the United States. Many of AO's books fit into this category, and you'll find all of the books available for each AO year in the sidebar of her Baldwin site. Many are available for purchase from Yesterday's Classics, and you'll find a list of the AO books on that sidebar as well. I have always found these to be good quality and easy to read. They're also available from Amazon. She even has Kindle editions available

The other lists are put together by Judy Elliot. Judy is solely responsible for me purchasing the majority of my new books from Amazon, because her lists are Listmania lists on the Amazon site. Judy provides her opinion on which of the myriad editions is best by linking to her favourites. From there you can check other editions that are available, but in many cases I agree with Judy's first suggestion. Judy is forever adding new lists, and they're all marvellous. I love these resources! Judy also produces audiobooks at Alcazar AudioWorks. My these ladies are impressive!

When I am making a list of books for a particular AO year I simply open up Judy's relevant list and check each recommendation, placing it into a 'wishlist' to order later. It makes the whole experience painless. Which it is, of course. Except for paying for shipping to Australia, that is.

Anyhow, hopefully some of you might find these two resources useful. I do.

Anyone have any other good methods for purchasing AO books?

When I was a teenager not all that terribly long ago, my dear parents warned me against dating certain boys. They:

• Shouldn't have worn braces in their youth;
• Could not drive a panel van; and
• Definitely must not be Catholic.

Now the first warning is financial - boys who wore braces are more likely to begat children with crooked teeth, and orthodontists are expensive. Excellent advice.

The second is self evident - for Aussies who were dating in the 70s it is, anyhow...

The third, though - the third points to the staunchly held position still prevalent at the time of my youth that Catholics and Protestants should not mix. Absolutely and positively not on first dates. Preferably never.

Clearly, Bronwen and Dylan's mother thought the same...

They had moved to Liverpool from their village in Wales after their Da had died. Mam earned a meager living for the three of them by doing other people's washing. Early in the morning while Bronwen and Dylan slept, Mam would collect the dirty washing from the well-off people in the better part of the city and then rush back to be home when the children awoke. The next morning she would return the clean washing, ironed and beautifully folded, and collect some more.

In the evenings, Mam was mostly too tired to do anything except sit and look into the fire and remember when things were different, but sometimes she told Bronwen and Dylan thrilling stories about dragons and hauntings, and wicked devils with tales, and ghosties that came down the chimney at night.

On Sundays Bronwen and Dylan and Mam sang hymns in Chapel. It was plain, with whitewashed walls.

Their next-door-neighbours were the O'Rileys. The O'Rileys did not go the Chapel. They went to a different church. Their church had beautiful statues and coloured class and lighted candles.

Bronwen and Dylan were not to speak to the O'Rileys. They were not to go near their church either. Their church was for a different sort of people, not their kind. Bronwen thought it was very strange, but she did as Mam told her. Mam's face was stern and serious.

On Christmas Eve Mam washed clothes and Bronwen and Dylan went with her delivering it all around the houses. When Dylan's little legs were tired from all the walking, Mam took them home. But Mam still had more shopping to do. She didn't like to leave the children alone in the house after dark, but she wasn't going to be long...

"Don't answer the door if anyone knocks," she said as she left the house. Bronwen and Dylan talked about Father Christmas and waited for Mam to return.

Then there came a knock. But not at the door. It was coming from the back of the house in the dark corner by the copper.

"Plonk," it went, "Plonk! Plonk!" "Plonk! Plonk! Plonk! Plonk!"

"It's that horrid ghostie coming down the chimney to get us!" shrieked Dylan.

The two children bolted, screaming, through the kitchen and onto the street. Straight into the arms of Mrs O'Riley coming home with the family shopping...

What will they find when they go 'next door'? What is the Christmas Eve ghost? What does Mam say?

The Christmas Eve Ghost by Shirley Hughes is my pic of the Christmas Books for 2010. It is a wonderful addition to our Basket of Delights. It's available in Oz from Readings and Reader's Feast. For those wondering, there is nothing supernatural in the book, and there are no ghosts and spirits. Not really.

Shirley Hughes herself talks about The Christmas Eve Ghost on this video. Listen for her comments about reading aloud to children, and have a gander at her beautiful sketch books. Covetously sublime.

You'll be pleased to know that my Beloved is not a Catholic. He has never driven a panel van, and he has beautiful teeth.

I do as I'm told.

I'm a good girl, aren't I?

There are not one but two Amazon parcels today - one a great big one tied at the neck like a Santa sack. Aren't they just the most excitingest deliveries?!!

I have delightful guests; a sick daughter; an impending flood; a Christmas party for 30 to cater for on Friday; and a locust plague.

Ginger nut bikkies baking in the oven make the whole of our peaceful home smell like Christmas.

Life is good.

You?

The 1st December. What a magical date.

Every year on Christmas morning I find in the toe of my red velvet Christmas stocking a beautifully wrapped package containing a Christmas decoration to hang on the tree. These are not your run of the mill baubles, but special ornaments like a Swarovski Crystal star, or an antique Czechoslovakian glass Santa. Each is exquisite; each is unique. I love every one.

Over the years I've built up quite a collection of these special decorations, but even the run-of-the-mill ornaments are precious to me. There is the little terracotta gingerbread man that Jemimah's big sister found in her Christmas cracker when she was the age that Jemimah is now. There are the two plastic snowflakes that we had even earlier. There is the fluffy feathery white bauble that my sister-in-law posted over from England, and the Japanese temari one from my hubby's dad. These are as much heirlooms to me as my crystal stars, and each one is packed full of wonderful memories.

On the weekend closest to December 1st we open the boxes to adorn the tree. This annual ritual is a highlight of our year, and the date is marked on the calendars in ink. Our Trimming the Tree party is layer upon layer of tradition. We always drink warmed spicy Glögg from the Stuart crystal brandy balloons, Jemimah's non-alcoholic version tasting quite as sublime as that of her parents with lashings of sultanas and almonds hiding in its depths. We munch on loads of shortbread, and often gingerbread as well. There are always bowls of new-season's cherries and pepparkakskola - gingerbread toffee. (Apparently, eating gingerbread at Christmas makes you kind, and we can never have too much kindness now, can we?) Christmas music plays on the stereo for the first time for the season, and scented candles burn on the mantelpiece.

My especially favouritest part of the evening is the opening of the Basket of Delights. This is it back in 2008 - it has overflowed into two baskets now as we add new favourites to those of years past. We read the first book of the season snuggled by the tree. Ah, such nostalgic goodness.

This annual ritual brings with it so many memories of Christmases past, and sets the scene for the present one. For me is as almost as good as Christmas Day itself.

If only I could discover a way to make dismantling the tree on the twelfth day as much fun...

The new edition of Literacy Lava is here. If you've not done so already, be sure to download your free copy of Literacy Lava 7 from the Book Chook's blog immediately, y'hear!

Once again my feathery friend has excelled herself with this marvellous free magazine. Inside the seventh edition you'll find ideas for helping kids create characters in their own writing; suggestions for word game fun; and secrets about getting dads reading. There's an article about board books for young children; a celebration of the magic of children’s literacy; and ideas to inspire budding writers. I give some suggestions for getting the most from a trip to the art gallery with children, and you'll see some lovely photos of Jemimah! There's even an Activity page for kids was designed by author, illustrator and scientist, Andrea Hazard.

I feel very proud to be included as one of the Ladies of the Lava. I hope you enjoy reading this new edition of Literacy Lava as much we enjoyed putting it together.