We are in the midst of winter in Scotland. For once, it really is cold. See above!
We don't get that much snow in Scotland - and almost never before Christmas. But in the last week or two we have had loads. And because we don't usually get much, a lot of people are terribly ill-equipped. There's been a rush on wellies and snowboots.
In some ways it's been a real pain. The school closed for three days, and I've had to leave work early every day this week because nursery has been closing early. But the snow is pretty and we've taken the boys sledging and had snowball fights and made a huge snowman and an igloo and had heaps of snow left over!
It's melting now. However, being Brits, everyone speculates endlessly every day about whether there is an even colder snap still to come. (It's true, you know, that Brits talk about the weather ALL THE TIME. We really do. We're fascinated by it). I went up to the office today in the lift with Colin - a man I rarely speak to - and we had a most animated discussion about whether the rumour, that Monday is going to bring the worst weather yet, could be true.
Snow. Winter. Christmas. It's such romance.
And this. In the Bleak Midwinter. My favourite Christmas carol, sung by choristers in a big echoey church on a cold winter evening. Candles. Candles!
My response to this is so emotional. It's a sort of happy semi-melancholy, and also something settled and nostalgic. Something that speaks to me; a half-remembered memory of something that felt very real once upon a time. It doesn't matter, in the moment I hear this carol, that I am an atheist. My non-belief is important to me, and not to be taken lightly, but it doesn't mean I can't enjoy this; that I can't be moved by this.
I think that's what I love about Christmas.
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6 comments:
"Snow. Winter. Christmas. It's such romance."
Not for me. I just have the phrase "winter of discontent" going round and round my brain, and not because of the weather.
It doesn't matter, in the moment I hear this carol, that I am an aetheist. My non-belief is important to me, and not to be taken lightly, but it doesn't mean I can't enjoy this; that I can't be moved by this.
This. Absolutely. Nicely worded, my dear.
I also love this carol, and Christina Rossetti generally. I used to sing it as a lullaby to my babies. (Although oddly, I don't think the verse in the poem about "a breastful of milk" being enough for the baby is usually sung).
Janet W: I know a terrific winter book: "The Dark is Rising" by Susan Cooper -- England during a blizzard that shuts it down. With the Arthurian legend to boot.
Love that carol. It's almost medieval and spooky.
Laura - tough times indeed.
Carrie - thank you, although apparently I can't spell atheist. At least not while doing a late night post after a glass or two of vino.
Elizabeth - oh those days of singing to babies! Miss 'em!
Janet - I LOVED THAT BOOK WHEN I WAS 12! It's part of a quartet - wasn't it made into a film recently?
In the Bleak Midwinter is also my favourite carol.
Down here in the Midlands we haven't had it too bad. We seem to get it worse in January and February.
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