The Walking Dead gingerbread hospital

It's been five years since my first and only attempt to make a gingerbread house. I had enough gingerbread that time to make two small houses - one for my close friend who I nearly always meet for a drink on Christmas Eve, and one for my sister.

This year a different friend had to cancel her 40th birthday party because her little boy was ill in hospital. She said she felt like Daryl from The Walking Dead when he was trapped in the Sanctuary and forced to listen to Easy Street over and over - because another family in the same ward kept playing Three Little Kittens to soothe their poorly girl.

Once her boy was feeling better and her girl was off school for the holidays (and I was on holiday from one of my jobs, working at a school), we planned to meet up for a belated birthday/early Christmas lunch. I had an idea of making a gingerbread hospital (like the one Rick wakes up in during the first episode) on the outside that is the Sanctuary on the inside.

As ever, my ideas are usually better in theory than in practice, but hey - it kind of worked and my friend seemed to get what it was. Although the figure inside which was meant to be her as Daryl needed some definition for the arms and folded legs - she thought it was a handbag. Whoops.

You might be able to spot the record player, the character Jesus (who would have had brown hair if I had brown icing), Lucille, and a random star that looks more like a spider's web.

What was impressive to me is that I managed to carry it on two crowded trains to her flat without it collapsing. Royal icing is an amazing invention! (No, I don't make my own, as my Great British Bake Off book recommended. Gingerbread buildings take long enough to make without whisking egg whites as well.)

And if you like torturing yourself, here's a 30-minute loop of Easy Street.

The primroses were over

“The primroses were over. Towards the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full of rabbit-holes. In places the grass was gone altogether and everywhere there were clusters of dry droppings, through which nothing but the ragwort would grow.”

Richard Adams, Watership Down

I have been terrible at blogging the past year, but I always do a post for World Book Day – so I want to keep up with tradition. It’s nice to look back and see the books I chose before. 2012 was Nineteen Eighteen-Four (and how many times has that book been mentioned in the last year?), 2013 was Gone with the Wind, 2014 was Elizabeth Barrett’s Sonnets from the Portuguese, 2015 was The Go-Between, and last year was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

A couple of days after Christmas last year, I heard the news that Richard Adams had died on Christmas Eve. He was 96. At the bottom of this post is my copy of Watership Down, which my mother bought me in John Lewis on Oxford Street, back in the 1980s when its children's department included books. Richard was the only person I really wanted to write a fan letter to…but I never knew what to say, so I didn't. I know he had loads of fan mail, so mine wouldn't have made much difference to him, but I felt a huge pang of regret on the 27th of December. 96 is a fantastic age to live to, but death is loss no matter what age, and I think the little girl in me imagined he was as immortal as Father Christmas. I had read interviews with him after his 90th birthday and a couple of years ago, and he was as sharp and eloquent as ever.

I read Watership Down after seeing the 1978 animated film. I fell in love with both. As cute as he was, I was never a fan of Thumper from Bambi; sarcastic rabbits like Bugs Bunny and intelligent, kickass rabbits like Bigwig and Hyzenthlay were more my scene. There was also something Rick and Ilsa from Casablanca about the last two. Now when I watch The Walking Dead, so much of that epic, apocalyptic story reminds me of Watership Down – the constant vigilance against danger, being cautious but hopeful when meeting new characters, the deaths and losses, and the blood. I used to hide behind the curtains the first few times I watched the final showdown between General Woundwort and the dog in the film. Similarly, I used to hide behind my hands when I first watched the zombie scenes in the TV show, before I got used to them.

“When you’re little…you don’t distinguish between fiction and reality,” Richard said a few years ago. “It’s all reality. And thank goodness for that. I do not believe in talking down to children. Readers like to be upset, excited and bowled over. I can remember weeping when I was little at upsetting things that were read to me, but fortunately my mother and father were wise enough to keep going.”

His daughter Juliet urged him to write down the epic rabbit story he’d told her and her sister during long car journeys, and eventually he started writing every evening. ‘Asked if he enjoyed writing it, his response is quick and pithy. “No, I hated it. To be quite frank, writing is bloody hard work. But I did enjoy that I had the guts to persevere with it.”’

I am so glad he did.

Tiptoe through the tulips

I've taken this title from a song that was used at the start of a fairly recent episode of The Walking Dead, in which poor Sam, a disturbed child, was hiding in his room and playing old records. That horror aside, I just thought I'd share some more tulips - before they make an appearance in people's gardens in the next month or so.

Nymans in June: Smelling the roses

I watched the first episode of The Autistic Gardener this evening. I wasn't sure about the sound of it - I was worried it would be just another entertainment programme misrepresenting vulnerable people. But I watched it, and as all of the team had high-functioning autism, it did seem to be their story and edited sensitively. There was a lovely, warm sense of humour running throughout it, and some very tender moments.

It reminded me that I took some photos with my sister (who has low-functioning autism) just over a week ago that I wanted to share here.

We made another trip to Nymans, and there was a sensory treat in store for my sister. She has paid a couple of brief visits to the beautiful National Trust gardens, just sitting in the meadow or walking up the path and looking at the narcissi and crocuses - the staff are great at suggesting what is quick to see and not too far to walk to.

At the end of last month, when it was very warm but not horrendously hot, we paid another visit on the way to Brighton. We walked through the centre of the meadow and I ran my hand along the grasses, and she copied me. She took my photograph, but decided I look better with most of myself cropped out!

Nymans has left boxes around the place with activities for children and families. I demonstrated a skipping rope, very badly, but she didn't fancy skipping. I tried to get her to play giant noughts and crosses, and she sort of joined in.

We saw all sorts of colour emerging in the gardens.

Does anyone know what this is?

We sat down in the rose garden, and for the first time she really sniffed when I asked her to smell the roses. The heat meant the scent was even stronger. So although we didn't manage to see the bluebells or the wisteria this year, sitting in the rose garden surrounded by the most wonderful fragrance was a pretty cool achievement. She seemed happy.

People just come and go: The end of Mad Men

People just come and go and no one says goodbye.

Don Draper, Season Seven, Episode Fourteen.

Spoiler alert, obviously.

It's all over now. I don't know what I expected to happen in the last episode of Mad Men, but it certainly wasn't Don sat cross-legged at the top of a cliff, meditating. Nor was it an actual advert.

I wasn't thrilled with the Benetton-esque, corny advert for the most famous drinks company in the world, a company that has a poor ethical record (sorry Matthew Weiner, but the groundbreaking inclusion in the 1970s of an Asian woman with a pottu doesn't change my feelings about that). The company has allegedly left people wanting clean water, polluted the area around manufacturing plants, and even the Southbank can't escape its all-branding eye: the London Eye is now red in its debt.

Then I remembered something awful: when we were about to leave primary school, my friend Claudine and I would walk around the playground during break time, singing the 1987 advert. Several girls complained to our teacher about how annoying we were, warbling that stupid song all of the time, and Miss Higgins told them, "They're just feeling sad about leaving, so they're singing to show how sad they are." I didn't realise that at the time, but I guess that's what we were doing. So maybe world-famous-drinks-company adverts are about endings as much as togetherness? Appropriately enough, the Mad Men finale aired a week after my last day of lectures at uni, when we said goodbye to some tutors and students who wouldn't be returning in September.

I looked up the 1987 advert and saw that it was re-released in 1989 after the fall of the Berlin Wall, and it was filmed in the beautiful St George's Hall in Liverpool, using 1000 children.

Happiness is...a billboard on the side of the road that screams with reassurance that whatever you are doing is ok. You are ok.

Don Draper, Season One, Episode One.

A few years ago, I wrote about Mad Men and hoped that Joan would reclaim her maiden name and get the chance to do the creative work she was clearly capable of doing. Starting up her own company with both of her surnames, after leaving her boyfriend and the horribly sexist McCann-Erickson, was even better. What a change from the woman who showed new secretary Peggy Olsen around the office ten years earlier, saying, "With any luck, you'll end up living in the country and you won't have to work at all." I was so pleased for Peggy, too - even though I cheered at the Harris-Olsen proposal, I kind of understood how she wanted to carry on working on her own terms (well, sort of) and at her own pace. I also think that she didn't want to leave Don behind again. But as Stan said to her before they (OMG!) got together, "You have to let him go."

I didn't bawl my eyes out, although I suspect I will when I'm ready to watch it again. But I did get a lump in my throat when Sally cooked dinner for her brother Bobby after he miserably tried to fend for himself, and a knot in my stomach when Don said his goodbye-for-nows to Peggy and Betty.

I didn't quite have the stomach for a Harris-Olsen Bloody Mary the next morning, but this jam on toast was a breakfast substitute for an Old-fashioned.

You're born alone and you die alone, and this world just dumps a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget.

Don Draper, Season One, Episode One.

Like other people who didn't want to believe Mad Men had ended and were stuck in denial (only anger, bargaining and depression to go until we reach acceptance), the following night I went right back to the beginning and started watching the first season. I forgot how much younger the men looked, how even Ken Cosgrove was as sexist as the others at the start ("You've got to let them know what kind of guy you are - then they'll know what kind of girl to be"), how adorable Sally was as a child, and how wide-eyed and sweet Betty was at the beginning. And if you don't believe me, watch this scene with Betty talking Sally through first kisses. Like Lori in The Walking Dead, Betty wasn't exactly a fan favourite, but I really liked her. RIP Mrs Robinson.

We're all so lucky to be here.

Betty Draper, Season One, Episode Two.

Joan Holloway, Copywriter

That’s what I’d love to see on her business card in the new season of Mad Men, which starts screening in the UK tonight.

Firstly, I’d like her to go back to her maiden name. Greg was manipulative, spoilt, and a rapist. So why keep the name Harris? Although, the show being set in the sixties, maybe it’s unlikely that a divorced woman would revert to her maiden name. I think the change in her over the first five seasons is gradual but beautiful to watch: from a woman who plans to find a husband, stop working and look after her family, to someone who realises how much they enjoy their work, and how their identity as an employee, an individual, and a parent is more important than their role as a spouse. I also hope, after learning that he voted in favour of her prostituting herself for the company, that she has no more involvement with Roger or anyone of his ilk. I wasn’t surprised by Pete’s actions – he was prepared to pimp his newly-wed wife out so he could have his story published in The New Yorker – but I honestly thought that Roger loved Joan deep down. Don’s not exactly a moral crusader, but I was glad that he was a voice of reason amongst the men.

Secondly, since Joan was made a partner at a HUGE personal sacrifice, I think she’s earned the right to a creative job. She has such a sharp sense of wit and comes out with great lines, which some of the copywriters would take hours to come up with. She’s not a ‘meaningless secretary’ as she explains in a roundabout way (but with her acid tongue) to Peggy; she understands the business better than most of the people in the company. Her enthusiasm when she was asked to help Harry read television scripts (to work out which adverts would be suitable in which shows) was obvious, she was told she did a great job, but was then replaced by a new, inexperienced man, and it seemed so unfair. Especially as Peggy’s now left the company (though I can’t help hoping she’ll return, like Ken), they need a strong, female voice.

As for the other women in the show, Peggy is a fantastic character, and it’s been wonderful watching her develop and seeing the changes in others’ responses to her and her job. I’m not sure what she wanted to do when she joined Sterling Cooper – I would have loved to hear her answer to the ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ question – but once she was given a chance to shine by Freddy with her ‘basket of kisses’ line about lipstick, it seemed to make her mind up that THIS is what she wanted to do. I think she’s in sharp contrast to Megan, who in Season 4 describes herself as an artist and actress, worked as secretary, but tells Don she thinks she wants to do what he and Peggy do (did she really want that, or was she trying to be what she thought Don wanted her to be – like when Sally cut her hair short?). But by Season 5 Megan was dissatisfied with office work and copywriting, even though she seemed to be good at both, and left to pursue acting. I liked how Peggy appeared to be threatened by another female copywriter at first, but ended up giving Megan praise and encouragement – I’m glad she’s not one to break through the glass ceiling and then pull the ladder up after her. I first saw Elizabeth Moss in Girl, Interrupted, so it’s still strange sometimes to see her play an adult in a male-dominated workplace!

I adored Betty in the first few seasons, but it’s a shame that being part of a family home other than Don’s means we see her less now. I loved the scene when she went to a casting and was sat in a huge, beautiful gown, surrounded by younger models in modern, modest sixties dresses, and the scenes in Rome, when she looked confident and sparkling – a million miles away from the bored, Ossining housewife. Her relationship with her daughter is fascinating, and Kiernan Shipka as Sally is such a mature actor for someone so young. It’s a shame we won’t see her and her character as adults in this show (there are only two more seasons to go).

Lastly, I think Trudy is a wonderful character. I wasn’t sure what to make of her at first, but that’s probably because she seemed so alien to me. I think we see Trudy’s optimistic and warm character as a necessary counterpoint to Pete’s complaining and lack of compassion. I saw Alison Brie in the film The Five-Year Engagement (which is surprisingly good, as rom-coms go) and she rocked a British accent.

And speaking of Americans doing British accents, Christina Hendricks does a fine one in Ginger and Rosa, although the story and her character are heart-breaking. I think she’ll have no problem getting good work in life after Joanie.