A Fezziwig Christmas

Dearest Emily,

As Christmas Day approaches, I expect your excitement knows no bounds and Mummy and Daddy rush around with all the preparations for your first Christmas at home together. Uncle Joe is off to his Daddy's and Grumpa and GiGi are quite frankly looking forwards to a much quieter Christmas than historically- here in our new little old house.

Following years of Family Christmasses, this year after moving house and opening a shop- it figured as a welcome break for Grumpa and I. Fast approaching, we made vague plans for Christmas lunch over at Cowes (a first to have Christmas Dinner away) and carried on with the businesses at hand.

Then, on Saturday night we set off for two parties (two-Em, and we rarely go out!)

A busy day at the shop- a quick turnaround and out- all the way down the lane to a neighbours house! It's the first time we have met many of them. In this quiet dark peaceful little valley, at this time of year- without any street lighting we are more likely to come face to face with a fox- rather than a human. So, in we go, and are warmly welcomed by a sea of cheerful faces, mince pies and mulled wine accompanying. Almost immediately, I was introduced to three charming children, aged between seven and eleven, who announced that they had just got off the ferry and were about to sing carols- and would we join in please. A few numbers later, I turned round to see the whole room engaged in 'The twelve days of Christmas' acting out seven swans a-swimming, six geese-a-laying etc. It would have been impossible to feel anything other than welcomed and involved in this yearly tradition (Some things never change Em- as I read about the residents here-abouts in a book dated 1897- 'the people revel in freedom and unconventionality here'.) Off we went, having sung and chatted and felt very cheery to the second venue on our little junkette. A Pagan Yule this time. Once again- the welcome, this time accompanied by home-made Meade, and soup,  and decorated pine-cone gifts was the same. 

Two very different parties, but the very same sentiment.

And dear Em, that is the story of my post. Christmas should be everything it is to you and Annabel- magical, exciting and exhausting for your parents! As you grow up things change and evolve. Grumpa and I now have a Christmas holiday together- glad of a few days well-earned rest. 

Christmas to me now means a warm and cheery celebration in the middle of Winter- when the days are short and the nights dark and long. A mid-point before the awakening of Spring, where we use up food in the store-cupboards, visit family and friends- old and new, make fancy gifts and trimmings to dress-up our daily landscapes.

Here is a passage from Dickins Christmas Carol- that sums it up for me this year-


Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see on a winter's night.

In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk and made an orchestra of it and tuned like fifty stomach aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Misses Fezziwig, beaming and lovable. In came the six followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In came the cook with her brother's particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his master, trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one who was proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress; in they all came, any-how and every-how. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping, old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them.

When this result was brought about the fiddler struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pairs of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance and had no notion of walking.

But if they had been thrice as many, oh, four times as many, old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted at any given time what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance, advance and retire; both hands to your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place; Fezziwig cut so deftly that he appeared to wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again with a stagger.

When the clock struck eleven the domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and shaking hands with every person individually, as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas!. 

Happy Christmas darling Emily and Annabel- your Grand=parents shall be Mr and Mrs Fezziwig this year!

Your ever-loving Grand-mother, GiGi xxx