Gilli Allan shares her answers to my Festive Fun Author Advent questions.
What is your favourite Christmas Carol/festive song?
There are loads that I love, but I think I’ll have to plump for the song which, since the first time I was introduced to it at secondary school, has always wrenched at my emotions and brought a lump to my throat. It’s the advent hymn “Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel”. I am not musical (nor am I religious) but there is something unbearably melancholy about it. I guess it is in a minor key.
What is your favourite festive film/book or both?
It has to be “It’s a Wonderful Life” starring Jimmy Stewart. In choosing it I am probably betraying my age, but I need to point out that it was already an OLD film when I was a child! It’s the ultimate feel good movie. Ideally I want this film to be screened on Christmas Eve, or, failing that, on a weekend leading up to Christmas when I’m dressing the tree. Perfect.
Favourite childhood memory for the season?
I could talk about waking up at 4 in the morning and feeling the thrilling weight of the stocking across my feet, and the delicious creaky crinkly sounds it would make as I wriggled my toes. I could revive memories of family charades, or of my parents putting on a show - doing Derren Brown style magic tricks or, suitably attired, performing an old time music hall song. But the memory I most want to share is of one of my son’s early Christmases. Is that allowed? This story has gone into our family folklore.
My aunt and uncle had won a large stuffed donkey in a raffle. They gave it to my son, Tom, for Christmas. It was an unattractive beast; it was grey, its head was far too big for its body and it sat solidly on its bottom. We named it ‘Gibbs the Donkey’ after the givers. Tom was about 3 and, from the ground to the top of its head, Gibbs was very nearly as tall as he was.
It was Boxing Day. First thing in the morning, while the rest of us were still half asleep , Tom was already up and playing with Gibbs. I say playing - but he was actually sitting astride the donkey’s back, holding its ears and jumping, shuffling and dragging Gibbs along with him. He was making slow progress but had at last managed to ‘ride’ Gibbs along the landing of my parents’ house, from our bedroom to theirs, where they were still in bed. After riding (manhandling) the donkey halfway across their room he stopped, wiped his brow and said: “Phew! It’s hard work being a child!”
Tree – Real or Artificial? Why?
My father worked in advertising and occasionally brought home props which had been used in photo-shoots. One of these art director’s perks was a rather stunning silver tree which, for many years during my childhood, claimed pride of place in the dining room. But ... we always had a living tree in the sitting room, as tall and as bushy as would fit, and I have continued this tradition. That resiny aromatic scent is so evocative and unmistakeable. It instantly taps in to all the nostalgia which surrounds Christmas, bringing back the magical memories of a happy childhood.
Bucks Fizz or Mulled Wine or other?
I can’t choose between these two. Each is perfect but in slightly different circumstances. The mulled wine is just the job when you’ve been for a frosty walk, or have just arrived at a friends house, and your nose and the tips of your ears are nipped by the cold. Buck Fizz is equally unrivalled for a celebratory drink while opening Christmas presents, to accompany a special breakfast, or as a pre lunch tipple.
Mince pie or Choc Yule Log?
I love the look of the Yule Log, with the traditional robin et al, but I’m not that keen on sponge cake, or on chocolate. Yes, I realise I’m a bit weird. But I adore mince pies and always make loads of them in advance then defrost in batches all through the holiday. Scrummy
Thank you, Gilli
DizzyC
LIFE CLASS
A story about art, life, love and learning lessons
The class meets once a week to draw the human figure. For four of its members, life hasn’t lived up to expectations. All have failed to achieve what they thought they wanted in life. They gradually come to realise that it’s not just the naked model they need to study and understand. Their stories are very different, but they all have secrets they hide from the world and from themselves. By uncovering and coming to terms with the past, maybe they can move on to a different and unimagined future.
Dory says she works in the sex trade, the clean-up end. She deals with the damage sex can cause. Her job has given her a jaundiced view of men, an attitude confirmed by the disintegration of her own relationship. The time seems right to pursue what she really wants in life, if she can work out what that is. Love doesn’t figure in her view of the future – she’s always been a clear eyed realist – yet she finds herself chasing a dream.
Stefan is a single-minded loner, whose sole ambition is to make a living from his sculpture. So how the hell did he find himself facing a class of adults who want their old teacher back? Although love is an emotion he long ago closed off - it only leads to regret and shame - it creeps up on him from more than one direction. Is it time to admit that letting others into his life is not defeat?
Fran - Dory’s older sister - is a wife and a stay-at-home mother without enough to keep her occupied. On a collision course with her mid-life crisis, Fran craves the romance and excitement of her youth. An on-line flirtation with an old boyfriend becomes scarily obsessive, putting everything she really loves at risk.
Dominic has been living dangerously. He knows all about sex but nothing about love. If he can only find his mother perhaps he can make sense of his past. But maybe it is a doomed quest and it’s time to look to the future? By accepting the help and love that’s on offer here and now, he has a chance to transform his life.
