274. When God Was A Rabbit

This aggravatingly wonderful and beautifully written debut novel by Sarah Winman is pure joy on the page. It's funny and sad and pin-sharp and warm and dark and I wanted to pull it over me like a duvet. It has given me inspiration and challenge and the great satisfaction of reading a book for the second time and finding yet more within it.

One day, if I'm lucky, I'll write a book as good as this one. Til then, I'll keep it by me - as a sort of talisman.

273. Bags and Wallets

The title of this blog post alone will have been enough to make Herself and the Parent laugh - I guarantee it. They're probably thinking it's about time I confessed to this particular predilection.

I am a bagandwalletaholic. It's true. And what's peculiar is that the bags are all similar and the wallets are all similar.

I'm searching for the perfect 'one', you see.

Rucksacks, I have a few. Yes. Then again, too few to mention. What can I say? Buying bags and wallets makes me happy because I don't have to try them on. And you can have lots of them without feeling guilty.

That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.

272. Christmas Carols

My little primary school was attached to a posh church (not physically), which explains why we had a sung eucharist every Wednesday, an annual Easter play that was epic in its ambition and portent, and spent months getting ready for Christmas.

I'm bitter about the Easter thing because I always had to be the narrator and wasn't ever allowed to be Jesus, which caused much junior teeth gnashing. I'm such a diva.

Anyway, must try to move on from these early setbacks.

The school tradition was that every Christmas the top class sang the descant. Which, you know, is the high harmony sung during some carols - Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Once in Royal David's City being notable examples. They're not complicated, but they have to be right or the whole thing descends into chaos. And it can sound wonderful. That last year was fun.

I can't sing the descant any more, because I'm now a baritone (or something scarily similar). But carols are still a great pleasure. I failed to get myself along to a carol concert this year and I regret it. Christmas wasn't the same without a blast of singing (and, possibly, God - but that's a more troubling question) and burbling along in the car is not a satisfactory alternative.

Ideally, I'd like:

A pretty church (St James', Piccadilly, is a good one)
A proper vicar (no happy clappies) but with a sense of humour
A choir (but no ruffles or rolled 'r's)
Some readings (John Julius Norwich if we're being proper, or Spike Milligan for entertainment)
All the classic carols
and
In the Bleak Midwinter - the proper version

So maybe the next few Christmases will see me go on a search for that elusive combination. I suppose I could always whistle the descant - the choir would love that...

271. New Year's Resolution

I don't usually bother with New Year's resolutions. I feel bad enough about something or other most of the time, why add fuel to the flames?

But this year I have one resolution that I am determined to keep.

This blog WILL end in 2013. 

I only have 94 entries to go! And those of you still clinging on deserve some closure. So take my hand, and over the next weeks we will walk to the edge of the page...