Destroying a book?

A dilemma for you, my gentle readers: this is my childhood copy of A Traveller in Time, by Alison Uttley:

It was one of my absolute favourite books, first read at an age when I hadn't previously encountered the name Penelope and pronounced it to rhyme with antelope. Although traumatised by the fate of Anthony Babington (no spoilers here - he was a real Elizabethan) I was completely drawn in to the extraordinary world of Thackers, and used to emerge from reading sessions feeling slightly dazed by the modern world of a noisy family house. I must have read it many many times over the years, and it still conjures the same feelings, scents and flavours in my head. (Can a book have a flavour? If not, what's the word for that brain-hangover a book leaves?)

Sadly, like many well-loved paperbacks of its age, it has now fallen apart, and an almost identical version is in print, so I have bought myself a new one:

I'm now wondering what to do with the old one. I could just toss it in the recycling bin - after all it is, in the cold light of day, just a bundle of rather brittle old paper.

Being me, actually I can't do that. However, having purchased a new copy, I have no need for this one, and what's the point of letting it gather dust on my already overladen shelves when I'll probably never open it again, except to muse over it in a nostalgic kind of a way?

So here's where you come in. I'm considering taking the book apart to re-use some of the images or text. Have you ever dismembered a book in this way? It feels like destruction, but if I choose something that feels positive and creative there could be a phoenix-like quality to the things I create. Your ideas please, for the best way to make good use of these pages, and beautiful illustrations:

Should I fill one of those multi-windowed picture frames with the images? Or set small pieces of text or drawings under resin to make jewellery so I can remember the book while I wear fragments of it? Other suggestions? What do you think? What would you do?

What's the story?

When you buy something in a charity shop, do you ever stop to think about its history? When I hunt in charity shops, there are three things I really look for: books (especially children’s books), fabrics, and drinking glasses. I struck lucky again last week with a couple of hardback Brambly Hedge books, and this beautiful curtain for just £1. The colours remind me of Pat Hutchin's books from the 70s (Rosie's Walk, and Clock & More Clocks are favourites in this house). It joins a gorgeous patchwork quilt (an extortionate £4) as one of my all time favourite finds.

  

What I love about them most (apart from the price and the sheer serendipity of the find), is thinking about the story behind them. Why are they there, looking all unloved in the corner of a musty smelling charity shop? Whose hands painstakingly stitched this quilt, and what had these squares belonged to in the first place? In quilting terms it's not a masterpiece - it's a simple squares pattern, machine sewn in strips, and quilted using the stitch-in-the-ditch technique; but I love sitting in bed with a cup of tea in my hand, studying the different fabrics and running my hands over them.

Were those flannelette flowers part of a favourite pair of pyjamas? That corduroy the pair of dungarees a toddler learnt to walk in? Who was it made for? How many other people slept beneath it before me? What happened to its owner, that he/she no longer needs it? And how come that pink & orange swirly fabric in the middle is exactly the same as the pattern I remember on the bathroom bin in my parents' house in the 70s?

And this curtain: it’s been handmade with great care (weights in the corners and everything), and still has a row of curtain hooks in the tape at the top, but the tape hasn’t been gathered up, and the threads haven’t been distorted in the way you’d expect when the hooks take the weight of the cloth. So why is there only one, and why has it apparently never been used? And what shall I do now with all this gorgeous fabric?

Michael Rosen's Sad Book

This week marks the third anniversary of my little sister's suicide. I don't want to write about that, but it does give me a particular reason to share this book with you.

Michael Rosen's Sad Book is, like much of his work, simply written. I don't mean simple as in dumbed down, simplified, it's rather that he doesn't pad out the truth or fluff it up with weasely words. He tells it straight, and it's devastating.

Quentin Blake's illustrations are just stunning in this. If, like me, you think of him as sketching playful, colourful, anarchic happy kids, this will make you see his work in a new light.

I bought it when I was suffering from depression, and it helped. Then I read it again when I was grieving, and it helped some more.

It would be a good book for helping children understand their feelings, showing them different ways sadness can affect them and how they might deal with it; showing them they're not alone, though it might feel like it sometimes. It works pretty well for this adult too.

And the last page will make you cry (if the rest hasn't). But crying isn't always a bad thing.

http://www.michaelrosen.co.uk/

Ant and Bee are back!

When I was a little girl I loved the Ant & Bee books, by Angela Banner, so when I had children of my own and hence a cast iron excuse to buy lots more children's books (I've been buying them all my life anyway, but having real live children in the house makes it seem more legit, somehow) I searched high and low for them, only to discover that they were out of print, and second-hand copies were changing hands for sometimes over £100 on Amazon. So imagine my delight when on the counter of my local bookshop this morning I found these:

Yes - they've seen the light and reprinted them!

The funny thing is, although I remembered that some of the words were red and some were black, I never noticed when I was a child, that they take you through the ABC in each story (doh!). So in "More Ant and Bee" (they'd obviously sold out of the first in the series already, so I've had to start with More...) the story is that Ant and Bee want to go to Asia, so they find a boat, and then hide in the pocket of a man's coat etc etc.

The idea is that the child read the red words, and the adult (or an older sibling) fills in the black ones. This may indeed be how my parents introduced them to me as a child, but I remember very clearly reading them to myself long after I'd learnt to read confidently. Kind Dog was my favourite character, though he doesn't appear in all of the stories. I'm so excited to find them again!

Did you have any favourite childhood books that are now out of print? Or have you found old favourites recently, and read them very differently? Do tell!

Choose your own adventure! Christmas in July

Remember those “Choose your own adventure” books you had in the 80s? Here’s a mini-version: I couldn’t quite make up my own mind about this topic, so I wrote two blog posts. You get to pick which one you read... (and of course, if you don’t like what you read, you can cheat and go back and read the other one too!)

So you are standing on a sun baked street, wondering where you can get an ice-cream, or a cold beer, or both, when someone hands you an invitation to a Christmas party, this afternoon. Do you

a) think “A Christmas party in the summer? Cool!” and head for the address on the card immediately? If so, click here.

or b) stare dumbfounded at the card, which depicts a snowy scene with a cutesy robin perched on the handle of the spade, then, wiping the sweat from your brow, crumple it into your pocket and head for the nearest air-conditioned bar? If so, click here.

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b) Bah Humbug!

If you’re anything like me, the word Christmas popping up much before mid-October feels all wrong. I grew up in a house where the tree wasn’t bought until the first day of the school holidays, and the decorations and fairy lights weren’t put up until Christmas Eve. This was a breathlessly exciting day for us as children - after all the anticipation, decorating the tree on 24th December seemed to symbolise that the celebrations were properly beginning, and in a few short hours we’d hang up our stockings (actually Dad’s old walking socks) and try desperately to stay awake long enough to see Father Christmas...

These days (she says, trying not to sound old and curmudgeonly), the shops seem to sell decorations earlier and earlier, and last year I stomped out of a high street shop because they were playing carols in October. Decorations and trees are everywhere before the end of November, and the notion of waiting until Christmas Eve seems nothing short of Scrooge-like denial that there’s a MASSIVE festival happening. We then all eat far too much, give and receive heaps of presents we don’t need or want, and complain about our waistlines and hangovers for several weeks afterwards.

So when I came across the phrase “Christmas in July” I was horrified. If Christmas can happen in the summer, there’s no hope at all of holding the whole thing at bay until December - and as everyone knows, once something is around us all the time, it soon ceases to be exciting at all.

My initial research suggested Christmas in July was something cooked up by northern hemisphere emigrants to the southern hemisphere, who, on finding that celebrating Christmas during summertime felt very strange indeed, decided to inaugurate a second Christmas celebration in the southern hemisphere winter, in July, so that eating big roast dinners, lighting fires and candles, exchanging cards depicting robins and snow, and snuggling up in unflatteringly chunky knitted sweaters with reindeer on the chest felt more appropriate. This all makes a lot of sense, really.

However, the version I’ve come across recently on Etsy is altogether a more commercial enterprise, aimed at enticing the super-organised to get ahead with their Christmas shopping (“You too could have the whole lot wrapped and hidden away by the end of the summer holidays!”). The idea has taken off and now there are sales and promotions worldwide, but especially in the USA, to encourage people to buy presents early.

In marketing terms, this is a splendid idea. There are no major public holidays in the summer, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have been and gone, and there are no national events that might require the buying and giving of presents. Shops traditionally have to ride over this slack time, and use it to prepare for what they hope might be the Christmas rush. So, thinks some clever chap, why not start the Christmas rush early, so that those who can’t stand the idea of fighting for elbow-room alongside everyone else in December, can quietly go about their gift-buying business while everyone else is getting a suntan or food-poisoning from an ill-lit barbecue...

I admit to feeling sceptical about this, for a couple of reasons. Firstly, as I mentioned above, I like Christmas to be really special, and that means keeping it short and concentrated and not starting too early and getting bored by mid-November. My second objection is that I don’t trust my own systems: there’s a pretty strong chance that by December I’ll have forgotten where I put the things I bought in July, and if I go so far as to wrap them up in July as well, when I eventually find them I’ll have to unwrap them all again to remind myself what I’d bought!

But if you like the idea, and of course you’re welcome to your own opinion, head on over to my Etsy shop, Morgan & Pink, where use of the code CIJUK10 will give you a sparkly 10% off everything purchased during July. Just don’t blame me if you’ve lost them again by 24th December...

Lilac rosebud & pearl earrings on gold hooks, yours for £20

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a) Christmas in July? All my dreams come true!

Perhaps like me you know one or two people who have a box tucked away somewhere with a selection of presents in it, bought on a whim from time to time so that they’ll never be short of a gift, even when invited to a children’s birthday party at short notice. I am not one of these people, but I would love to be. And I recently stumbled on a rather clever promotion on Etsy called Christmas in July, which might just help me achieve this, and save money into the bargain!

It may seem a little unseasonal to be considering Christmas while simultaneously planning the summer holidays, but in many ways it makes a lot of sense. Who wants to be the person madly rushing round the high street in the cold gloom of a December afternoon, becoming increasingly frantic at the thought of not finding the perfect gift, especially when it’s cold outside so you’re muffled up in your warmest coat, but the shop assistants are all in t-shirts and have the heating turned up, and every time you get close to the things you actually want to buy you find yourself surrounded by pointy elbows jabbing at your ribs and great big feet stomping on yours, and the carols are blasting away on a loop making you feel less good-willed by the minute...

Glass of Pimms, anyone?

Imagine instead that you’re sitting on the patio / veranda / sofa with your feet up, and a glass of something long and cool beside you, the summer breeze drifting in through the open window, while you browse fabulous gifts, handmade by British craftspeople, in the peace and quiet of your own home. Before you know it, you’ll be well ahead of the Jones’ and there will be no need to panic later in the year. You might even spot something perfect for Aunt Lily’s 90th birthday, or Cousin Charlie’s wedding while you’re at it - it doesn’t have to be just Christmas presents! It’s also a great time to commission something personal, while there’s still plenty of time to have it made to your exact specifications.

Sterling silver initial charm necklace, made to order; email fiona@morganandpink.co.uk for details

So what are you waiting for? Head on over to Morgan & Pink, and use the code CIJUK10 to take advantage of 10% off at any time in July, and at any other Etsy shops taking part in the promotion (search using the same code). Bring your own carols, mince pies, and elbow room... or Pimms and flip flops if you prefer :-)

"It was on a starry night...." Sterling silver star pendant, yours for £18

Wednesday Window: Mostly Books, Abingdon

It seems to be Thursday already, but never mind! Here's this week's Wednesday Window, better late than never...

This week is Independent Booksellers Week, so let's celebrate!

What does an independent bookshop mean to you? Good customer service? Personal touches? More quirky than the big generic "book stores"? Somewhere to while away hours and hours ...?

My favourite independent bookshop at the moment is Mostly Books in Abingdon. It's the kind of place where you can pop in and say "I need something as a gift for a 3 year old whose parents have lots of books already", and they pause for a split second to think and then say, "Well, how about this? It was only published last month, and we think it's brilliant". Then they leave you in peace to sit in a corner and read said book. And yes, they're right, it's brilliant. So you head back to the shelves for another copy for your own child, and you find yourself picking up one or two other things that catch your eye...

Like all good bookshops, you lose track of time in here, and invariably spend more money than you meant to, but you don't regret it. If you're anywhere nearby, I'd recommend you visit them. And if you're not nearby, check out their amazingly cool idea, Books throughout the year, where you can subscribe to receive personally chosen books at regular intervals all year. You tell them the genre or favourite books of the person who'll be receiving the books, and they do the rest.

While you're here, please leave a shout out for your favourite independent bookshop in the comments below :-)

Where's the grown-up?

This one's for my sisters, with whom I was discussing this very problem last weekend...

Have you ever noticed something out of place in your home, or car, and then, perhaps a few days later, noticed it again and thought “Why hasn’t anyone done anything about that yet?” This happens to me ALL the time, and then I get that sinking realisation that there is no-one else who is going to do anything about it. Either because it’s one of those little things that no-one else in the house would notice anyway, or because (a harsher truth) no-one else cares enough to do anything about it. Or, worse still, it was me that put the thing in that place, and maybe everyone else thinks I still want it to be there, even when that thing is a Thermos mug of now furry tea that’s been in the car for a week. And that’s when I wish there was a grown-up about the place to help.

I’ve officially been a grown-up for quite some time now, and I’ve made it worse by becoming a parent. Before I had children I had time to tidy up after myself (ok, this doesn’t mean I always did tidy up, but I could have done, easily), and generally speaking, things stayed in the places I wanted them to, and weren’t moved, hidden or otherwise appropriated by anyone else. If there was a mess, I knew for definite I had to deal with it. But somehow, now there are three other people in my life, the lines have got blurred. I no longer have time for, well, anything (at least it feels like that sometimes), and quite often I can say hand on heart that I certainly didn’t put that thing there, so why oh why should it be me that has to clear it up?

The problem is - actually there are three problems:

Firstly, I really do want everything to be tidy and in its place. I am a bit of a control freak about this. I dream of spotless minimalist interiors. I would organise and label everything in matching Martha Stewart jars, boxes and shelving units if I could, except that the rest of my family would first laugh at me for being so anal, and then ignore the system to the point where I couldn’t fight the chaos any more.

So in many cases, there genuinely is no-one in the house who cares as much as I do about the heaps of toys in the bathroom, or where the colouring pencils live, or about the fact that there seems to be an odd sock, a lego brick, a sandwich box, two books, a hairbrush, a juggling ball, a shoe, an unidentifiable smell, and a heap of coloured paper under the sofa.

Secondly, some of these tasks are things I can’t do on my own, because I’ve never learnt (changing light-bulbs in the car), or because they require two people (putting things up into the loft which can only be reached by a rickety step-ladder), or because my husband has instilled in me such a lack of confidence that I daren’t try because I know it matters to him that it is ABSOLUTELY perfect, and that I won’t do it well enough (basically anything that involves drilling holes in the wall, or anything to do with gas, electricity, plumbing or computers) but with a 4-hour daily commute and an average office-day of 10 hours in the middle (and since February, a broken wrist as well), he doesn’t have time to do these things or to help me do them so, you guessed it, they don't get done, and I keep noticing them again and again...

Thirdly - and this is the real crunch-point: I don’t want any of this to be my responsibility. I don’t want to have to be the only one who has time or energy to care about dirty socks under my daughter’s bed, or discarded pants on the bathroom floor, or the mouldy food in the car, or the splatters of coffee on the cupboard door next to the dishwasher, or where all the working biros have gone, or the amazing build-up of spiders’ webs in the conservatory... I want someone else to care enough and have time enough to help me: I want there to be a more-grown-up-than-me grown-up in the house so I don't have to be one all the time. I’m tired of being responsible!

Now, will someone please pick up all those toys “someone” seems to have thrown out of their pram? Oh - and tell the butler I’ll take tea in the drawing room...

Well, a girl can dream, can’t she?

I'm linking this up to Sarah Miles' Monday Club - do pop over and see what she and the others have been up to...