This year's Christmas Creatures

I told you here how my Dad has made the children of the family Christmas Creatures for some 38 years. To call them 'Blue Peter style' might be accurate one year and totally inaccurate - possibly insulting - the next. (The dinosaur on the bottom right was made using a newly acquired piece of equipment that cut polystyrene - heated wire, I'm guessing.) The Creatures had to contain some kind of cavity in which tiny presents were hidden. The creatures would be placed under the tree on Christmas Eve though I have at least one memory of them appearing, smelling of paint, on Christmas morning. For most of these years Dad was a senior consultant at a local hospital; quite how he got them made each year is beyond me. We often had guests at Christmas or there were children of close friends that Dad wanted to make them for; some years I think Dad made around six or seven Creatures.

Dad was poorly with nearly-pneumonia back in November. I began to worry that he might be worrying about the Christmas Creatures... After careful negotiations - I really didn't want him to feel I was taking it away from him - I offered to make them this year. Dad was very pleased but said it wasn't just this year's nearly-pneumonia but also his worsening gout, which he has badly in his hands, that made them too difficult now.

I was tasked with taking them over.

It felt only right that I should honour my Dad with all the making he has done for us over the last years. I made four 'dolls' and here they are:

(This year I cheated slightly with the cavity idea. The cavity is the filing cabinet, not full of medical records, but little gifts, sort of stocking style...)



 

All I want for Christmas....

… is a Christmas creature.

Since I was about seven (that’s a LONG time people) my Dad has made a Christmas creature for all the children. When Husband appeared on the scene, he too qualified for a Christmas Creature. It was only as our children became old enough to receive one (small parts and all that) that my generation no longer had them. The creatures might be real animals, our pets, beasts from mythology or my Dad’s imagination. They appeared under the tree on Christmas Eve or the following morning. Each model had a cavity which was filled with tiny presents, wrapped in tissue paper.

Since I am home (and my sister has kept so many of them) here is a Christmas Creature montage:

You can read a bit more about the creatures’ origins here, here and here.

In the meantime, it won’t fit inside the Christmas Creature, but this is a definite under-the-tree gift. Cally’s first book, Heaven Can Wait made me laugh out loud (no mean feat) so I’m really looking forward to reading Home for Christmas which is out today.

Beth Prince has always loved fairytales and now, aged twenty-four, she feels like she's finally on the verge of her own happily ever after. She lives by the seaside, works in the Picturebox - a charming but rundown independent cinema - and has a boyfriend who's so debonair and charming she can't believe her luck! There's just one problem - none of her boyfriends have ever told her they love her and it doesn't look like Aiden's going to say it any time soon. Desperate to hear 'I love you' for the first time Beth takes matters into her own hands - and instantly wishes she hadn't. Just when it seems like her luck can't get any worse, bad news arrives in the devilishly handsome shape of Matt Jones. Matt is the regional director of a multiplex cinema and he's determined to get his hands on the Picturebox by Christmas. Can Beth keep her job, her man and her home or is her romantic-comedy life about to turn into a disaster movie?

You can order Home For Christmas here.

What kind of superhero are you?

Husband and I were catching up on the day’s events last night. My Dad had been in hospital for a cataract operation so I’d been on the ‘phone checking out how he was. Husband asked after Dad’s new vision. “Still a bit blurry,” I said. “He’s on some tablets that affect the action of his iris… It’ll take some time.”

It took us back two weeks to Daughter’s rush to hospital for the appendicitis that wasn’t. We were still in the ER and things were just concluding; the medics were finally able to give her something for the pain and the admin staff were doing the paperwork to admit her. Panic over; most likely diagnosis: a tummy infection. We began to laugh about a noise coming from the next bay (was it a sneeze or a mobile ‘phone?) when Daughter said, “Mum, I can’t see. My vision has gone blurry.”

I was thrown into panic again: repanic – there should be a word. We weren’t 100% sure what was wrong with Daughter but you don’t just ignore symptoms like that so I began to flap. I wanted to wave over a doctor and Husband said, “I’m sure it’s fine.” (It was a temporary consequence of the pain relief they’d given her.)

So last night, lying on our bed, thinking about the blurry vision of both my father and my daughter, I berated Husband. “You’re so casual,” I said.

“I’m Ice-Man,” he said.

“No, I’m fairly certain, if you were a super hero, you’d be Blasé-Man.”

“Help! Help! My cat’s stuck up the tree,” Enid cried. “No problem, Ma’am, Blasé-Man is here. Cat’s like trees; I expect he’ll come down when he’s hungry.”

“Help! That man stole my purse! Get him-” Mildred cried. “Aw, Ma’am. How much cash was in there? Only a few pounds? No problem Ma’am; that’s not so much to lose…”

It worries me slightly that I’m beginning to toy with Blasé-Man (in my head, people.) What does Blasé-Man care about? What costume would he wear? I am fairly certain that it would involve pink polyester. (He wouldn’t need to worry much about chafing because from his reclining position there wouldn’t be much rubbing.)

I think it’s time I wrap this post up now…

To blog or not to blog...

It was a real toss up whether to blog about this or not. Is this something I should or shouldn’t post about? What is my blog about? Writing, living in Bangkok, stuff about me. Anyway, this is the part of expat life that scares the bejeebers out of me, so maybe I should say it.

Last Thursday night my Dad (who’s 80th birthday I blogged about here) had a fall in the garden while he took Leo out for his last of the evening pee (the dog’s, not my Dad’s.)

It was a 999 job. He was hurt so my mum and sister weren’t too keen to move him without help. The paramedics thought he’d broken his hip; my Dad, a retired doctor didn’t think so. It strikes me as very odd that as he lay on the gravel, very clearly a patient, my Dad was diagnosing himself.

An x-ray failed to be sure. So they scanned him. It turned out that he has broken his ischium, which is part of the pelvis. This is better news than breaking his hip which would have meant an operation with a general anaesthetic which would not be safe because of his range of medical issues. They don’t do anything for a broken ischium except pain relief and physio.

Sometimes I really hate being away from home.

“So this is Christmas…” ♪♪♪

I shouldn’t really be here should I? Husband is setting up the new wii… he finally caved. I have to confess I don’t really understand it but then I didn’t understand blogging either – and look at me now!

About ten days ago a parcel arrived. Son and I went to the office to collect it. “Ah,” I said, “I know what this is. This is the Christmas Creatures.” Son gasped, “Can we open them now?” Of course I didn’t allow it. I rang my Dad, maker of the Christmas Creatures, to let him know they had arrived.

This morning, our Christmas morning, Husband and I were up and awake and the children, proper teenagers at last, slept on and on and on… stockings bulging and untouched. Whatever has happened to those tiny children who woke at 2am to rip open their stockings?

As they slept on, I opened my Dad’s box of Christmas Creatures. OMG. “He’s surpassed himself,” I say to Husband. “This is the best Creature ever.” Husband said I say that every year… but look – how beautiful are these?

You can go here and here to see explanation and examples of my family tradition of Christmas Creatures.

I don't bake...

Bookworm costume

... but I do make costumes. The children know that they can ask to be anything and I will huff and puff and grumble about time and then usually I will do it. But, if I can't, my Mum or my Dad can and will. That is one reason why my parents are so fantastic.

This is Son as 'Bookworm' for World Book Day 2004.

That year, I rather surpassed myself. Both Son and Daughter looked spectacular, (Daughter tomorrow) and another mother passed me in the playground, and said: 'You've got too much time on your hands...'

I was devastated; I could've cried. She was a solicitor - I am impressed because she had a real, grown up career and she baked her daughter's birthday cakes, while I didn't have a job, I just went to art college. I could make costumes but not cakes and so I bought mine from Tesco or M&S. I reckoned we were pretty even on the making front but she'd reached the finished line on careers before I'd even heard the starter pistol.

Anyway, sorry for the 'me me me, aren't I clever' post but I'm writing you know, and can't think of anything else to post.

Kindness makes the world go round

The first time I went home to the UK after moving to Thailand I told my parents about how some food stuffs are available in Bangkok and some not. “I have a friend, S,” I said, “who loves mushy peas, but she can’t get them. She carts them back from the UK when she can.” A week or so later I’m about to fly back to Bangkok, and my Dad brings me a box of dried peas “For your friend, S, JJ,” he says.

My friend S has moved to Delhi since then. Last month she visited Bangkok and she told me she comes to visit with an empty suitcase because she can get more things here in Thailand than she can in India. We chuckle about how all things are relative… I ask if she has space for a bedspread that I really want to get from Delhi – a replacement for one that’s falling apart after 20 years. She tells me she’s happy to get it and will bring it in November. We swap emails about details until she’s in possession of my bedspread.

Her trip to Bangkok has been cancelled, but she’s going to Singapore. With Husband’s help we arrange for his nice colleague A who is based in Singapore office to take in the bedspread at the office. (The bedspread is shown around colleagues to mixed reception! Cheek of it!)

One of Husband’s Thai colleagues, B, is going to Singapore. Would she be kind enough to bring back the bedspread for JJ? “Sure,” she says, “but I won’t release it into your care until you get me a copy of Delia Smith’s roast potatoes recipe.”

(Kind Thai colleague B collected the bedspread today, but was rather shocked as it turned out not to be what she thought she had heard Husband ask her to collect. She said to Colleague A, where is the "pest spray" you need me to take back?)

Bilingual Chinese whispers aside, I like to see it’s not just money that makes the world go round.

Wow

When I came over to the UK three months ago, my father said (about three days before I left) ‘there are a couple of big boxes of your stuff in our bedroom… we’d really like it if you could go through them to see if you want to keep anything.’

He wasn’t wrong; they were big. I peered inside … *sigh.* I moved a few things about. There was a university hall of residence year book. I was on the ‘Editorial Committee’ for this publication - at least that’s what my curriculum vitae said. I think in retrospect I was just sleeping with the Editor … (now Husband). Everything was covered with a crunchy layer of indeterminable crumbs.


I didn’t mention the boxes again. I hoped Dad would forget too. He didn’t.


About a week ago, Dad said ‘Any idea if you can get to look in those boxes, this time, Jen?’ Dad’s turn of phrase belies his meaning. This time it meant ‘would you bloody well get rid of those boxes of crap this time…’ though he wouldn’t ever say that to me. Well, he might, eventually.


OHMYGOD. Well. I went through the first box last night and what a rich supply of bloggable/writable research material. Oh I can hardly wait to tell you about it, but my friend L and her girls are due any minute to spend the day with us, so I shall have to wait.

I will leave you with a picture of the layers of books I found at the bottom of the box.

My Dad

Last week I said I would blog about my parents one at a time. Today is my Dad's turn.

My Dad:

• rarely swears, but when he does he runs together convoluted combinations of really atrocious expletives.


• brought my sister and me a cup of tea every school day morning to wake us up for school. It became a condition that the man I married would selflessly provide me with endless cups of tea. (I failed.)


• catches spiders in his hands. He shakes his hands gently to stop them from biting him. Eeeewugh. (Husband stamps on spiders since he’s a bit scared too – although less so since his six year old Son challenged him with: “Dad, if you hold the tarantula, so will I”.)


• is amazingly talented with his hands. For many years he’s made props for the local theatre group’s performances. So when I go home, this is the kind of thing I chance upon:

• Every year (bar one when he was ill) he has made a Christmas Creature for the children of the family. Until we had our own children this was my sister and I until we were around 30! Christmas creatures are made, Blue Peter style, from cardboard tubes, fizzy drink bottles and are decorated in the style of: aliens, cats, dogs, snowmen, dinosaurs, etc. They always have a hollow in their bodies which is filled with small toys and gifts. They are placed under the tree and given out with presents. Every year it’s a top secret what creature he’s made.

• (This Christmas Creature is Flicka, the dog. If you turn her round, you can open her bottom! and presents are hidden inside her hollow. It's quite scary how Dad has captured her neurotic expression so brilliantly. )

• It never mattered how many friends we invited, how late in the day, my parents always found enough food, and pulled up another chair. Our friends were always welcome.


• Has written his memoirs.


• He’s a fabulous cook. He’s always does Christmas meals and Sunday lunches but since he retired he has done nearly all the cooking.