Fiery cheer.

We do have some traditional fire rituals that take place in January up this end of the country. For instance the Burning of the Clavie, a fire festival at Burghead which greets the New Year. It is now celebrated on on 11th January. When the Julian calendar was reformed in Britain and the new Gregorian calendar was introduced people rioted, demanding back their 11 days - but not in Burghead. Brochers decided to have the best of both worlds, by celebrating New Year twice - on 1st January and the 11th January.

Therefore, every 11th January the flaming Clavie (a barrel full of staves) is carried round the town followed by a large crowd until it is set into a sturdy frame on the Doorie Hill on the ramparts of the ancient fort. After refuelling it's allowed to burn out and fall down the hill. Whilst the embers still smoulder the more intrepid onlookers gather them. Possession of a piece of the Clavie is said to bring good luck for the coming year and pieces are sent around the world to exiled 'Brochers'.

The year I took the children to this it was extremely windy and very impressive. It takes some courage to carry that flaming barrell around the town.

One I haven't been to yet but would love to be present at, is Up Helly Aa, the celebration of the Viking heritage on Shetland with a torch-light procession of Viking warriors known as the Jarl Squad lead by the Guizer Jarl, the Viking Chief, and culminating in the burning of a replica of a Viking longboat. Much quaffing of strong ale and merrymaking follow throughout the night.

The Laughing Babe.

It's very nice (re Chillsider's blog) to see pictures of tiny babies laughing. I've heard my three month old grandson chuckle on Skype. My own babes did't giggle and laugh much that early and I wonder what that says about my parenting. Bit too tense probably. My first-born spent several months sizing me up dubiously before she decided I was reasonably good parenting material and could probably be knocked into shape with a bit of work. I'm full of admiration for these mothers who are relaxed enough to just enjoy it all.

Browsing

I was browsing through the condemned books in the garage yesterday and discovered that with the pressure off to sell them they're not a bad bunch. If I had been wandering through a small secondhand bookstore containing only those books I think I would have found something to buy. The scruffy leather pocket book volumes of poetry and literature, the 1930's dustjackets as above, the jacketless hardback of 1900's novels, social commentaries, theories of education, farming, industry, AA route maps and so on all took on a much rosier glow so I saved a few.

Valentine's Day ...

... is obviously a splendid marketing opportunity that can be linked to almost anything nice and a bit luxurious from flowers to chocolates, to expensive jewellery, to holidays in romantic places. From simpler, possibly less cynical days, I have these nineteenth century Valentines put together by lovingly hopeful if occasionally wobbly hands from Scraps.

Ash Wednesday

I'm not sure what made me think of this except possibly the coming of February and the turning of the year.

"At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs's fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair." Ash Wednesday. T.S.Eliot

I have completely missed Pancake Day the last few years. That's entirely the fault of the supermarkets of course on whom I rely for my heads up on the celebration moments of the year. The greetings card industry hasn't found a way to profit by "Happy Pancake Day' cards or 'Have a great Mardi Gras' and the food outlets haven't quite got their head round the way to encourage people to 'eat up all the fats and rich foods in our store today and you will (perhaps) ensure yourself a place in the Hereafter.'

Failed again..

...to get my comment posted on Gillian's blog. Blah! I keep forgetting my password. What I wanted to say was - delicious shoes, where are you going to wear them? They will enhance a well-turned ankle very fetchingly I think! What a pretty cottage; I do like your curtains. You're very clever at finding nice houses and what a lovely little lane. It reminded me of the ones around the village where I grew up although there were no stone walls and no sheep to peer over the hedges. There were ponies and goats but it was mostly market gardening in our part of Essex. I do miss the flowers that used to grow in the hedgerows and those rather evil looking red berried things that lurked poisonously - what were they called? Nothing is allowed to grow at the sides of roads up here.

I love my flat screen TV. I think it was one of the real pleasures of last year to suddenly find I didn't have to squint at the programmes I wanted to watch and could really enjoy the DVD's.

It does feel a bit like spring although it's still cold here and there isn't a lot of daylight yet. Maybe it's just knowing that it can't be too long now that makes it feel better (or my anti-depressants of course!)

"It is better to remain silent..

... and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."

I came across that today.

I have paid attention.

I would like to know for sure who said it first though. It has been attributed in various places to Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain and, at Pink Kitty's Scratching Post, to Samuel Johnson.