Snowed in, lion around

I'm sure Arctic countries find the British response to snow bemusing. In Scotland, drivers were stuck on a motorway for fifteen hours, while my commute into London Bridge yesterday took four times longer than usual because of cancelled trains and - this was new to me - trains that couldn't move because their doors had frozen.

Today is World Book Day, and some parents might have felt their effort spent on costumes was wasted after the schools closed because of the weather. But I hope the children still enjoyed wearing their costumes at home. I had a day off work and I stayed indoors and started rereading Gone Girl. Although a lot of it is set in warm weather, there's a key scene in a snow storm.

But the books that I think of the most when I think of the snow are The Snowman (which also reminds me of Christmas), Love Story (which I've mentioned on a previous World Book Day), and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. 

My wonderful primary school teacher, Helen Baxter, read the C. S. Lewis novel to us over I don't know how many weeks. I probably had books read to me as a toddler, but once I could read to myself I rarely had stories read to me at home. So story time at school was incredibly special to me. And whatever I now think about the message of the book about the four children and their trips to Narnia, I have a strong affection for the novel because I remember the first time I heard those words spoken. 

If you're someone who reads children's books to children, I hope you know what a nourishing thing it is you're doing for them.

Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold and presently cleared away altogether. Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down on to the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree tops. 

Soon there were more wonderful things happening. Coming suddenly round a corner into a glade of silver birch trees Edmund saw the ground covered in all directions with little yellow flowers- celandines. The noise of water grew louder. Presently they actually crossed a stream. Beyond it they found snowdrops growing.

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis

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.

Font Sunday: Alice in Dreamland

I have been wondering whether to share these photos or not.

Today I joined in with the Design Museum's Font Sunday (on Twitter but also Pinterest) and I loved seeing so many different book covers, and sharing some of the ones on my shelves. I did a post on Font Sunday last year when the subject was tea tins, and I've posted about book covers here, here, and here. Today's Font Sunday was hosted by Penguin.

When I worked at Penguin's sister company ten years ago, we had charity book sales a few times a year, and we were like kids in a sweet shop. We waited for the email to say the book sale was open, and raced down the stairs to battle for Penguin Classics, children's audio books, and £20 cookery books that we could buy for £2.

One of the books I bought remained on a shelf or packed in a box for nine years. Every so often I would take it out, consider unwrapping it from its shrink wrap, but fearfully put it away again. It was a Penguin "Design Your Own Cover" edition of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - I loved the idea of designing the cover for a book I adore so much, but the pressure was too great. What if my design was terrible? I wouldn't be able to change it and I'd be stuck with it.

The solution came once I knew I wasn't going to keep the book; I was going to design the cover and then give it as a present. It's back to front, really - surely that would put me under more pressure to design a "perfect" cover? Somehow it didn't work like that, and it took the pressure off.

It was quite special to finally unwrap this beautiful book, with its blank cover save for the Penguin logo in the corner.

I had a few ideas for the cover, and thought I would be safe and draw the queen finding her white roses painted red, but then I thought of Dreamland in Margate. If you've never heard of it (and if you're not from the south east of England it's quite likely you haven't), Dreamland is a theme park in Kent. We went there on a school trip in 1991, and I can't really remember much about the park. I'm fairly sure we were slightly disappointed that it didn't seem as big as Chessington or Alton Towers, but we were kids and it was a day off school, so we were happy. Our clothes were awful - I was talking to a friend about this recently, and we both can't bear the thought of sharing photos from the 90s because our clothes (and NHS glasses) were so bad. Neons were a big thing...I'm sure we all wore neon pink or yellow on this school trip. And we definitely sang The Shoop Shoop Song on the coach.

It was harder to draw this than the queen and roses picture - that felt more intuitive and a bit wilder, whereas this felt structured - straight lines and perspective aren't my forte. I was pleased with it in the end, even if it is a bit wonky. And I'm pleased I bought a neon pink pencil - I knew it would come in useful!

Oh, and I really love rabbits. I have not shared enough rabbit photos on here - that needs to change.

Shakespeare 400: The (in)Complete Walk

After I posted yesterday's Shakespeare musings (which had several typos that have now been corrected!), I got the train to London Bridge and met my friend who was trying to negotiate his way down to Southwark Cathedral. We walked along the river, and came across the first of many screens showing short scenes from Shakespeare's plays. This was Timon of Athens, and we were surprised that we had a good view - we expected it to be much more crowded. I apologise for the generally fuzzy quality of these photos - I only used the camera on my phone and I was pretty hasty.

As we got to the underpass, the crowd got bigger. Everyone was watching Twelfth Night apart from a handful of people who were trying to squeeze past. I pitied anyone who'd arranged to meet friends in Wagamama, not knowing what was going on today.

We went round the back streets and saw the site of the original Globe. It's one thing I love about London - it's so big and so steeped in history, you can often see things you'd never noticed before. Neither of us had noticed this before.

We went to the original Rose Theatre, where Shakespeare first put on his plays. After it had been developed in the 1500s, other theatres were built in the surrounding area, and the Rose Theatre declined in popularity and shut down (I worry the same thing will happen to the Bromley Empire cinema when the new multiplex is completed on the other side of town). They are raising money to preserve the theatre's history and develop it as a visitor attraction. They have open days every Saturday and put on performances at other times.

We saw Suzanne Marie perform Henry VI part I Act V scene III. She was captivating, but the intimate setting meant you could see nearby audience members' responses. There were two young children at the front who were nervous of her intensity and stifled giggles at her wailing. I liked their honest reactions. Then we saw Frank McHugh and Ellie Mason play a spellbinding and sexy Macbeth and Lady Macbeth in Act I scene VII, when (spoiler alert!) he wonders if he is really prepared to kill Duncan, but his wife mocks his doubting. Personally, I hear her words differently from how they were perhaps intended. For me:

Lady Macbeth:  ...I have given suck, and know

How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me.

I would, while it was smiling in my face,

Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums

And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you

Have done to this.

isn't a sign that she was born the devil incarnate (a phrase from Titus Andronicus, fact fans!), but a woman who experienced a horrific loss that has eaten up her soul. I've just done a bit of research and have found Jude Kelly's production that considers just this.

We needed tea afterwards, and went to the cafe at Shakespeare's Globe theatre, where there was standing room only. We people-watched while we drank - it was during the interval of Hamlet, but even so, I don't think we've ever seen The Globe so heaving during the day. It was brilliant.

There were several people outside carrying a white or red rose. Not sure who was giving them out, but presumably something to do with The War of the Roses, the Houses of York and Lancaster, and St George's Day or Shakespeare's history plays? Anyhow, a lot of people decided to leave their rose on the gates of The Globe, which was a beautiful sight.

We carried on walking and watching the short films that formed The Complete Walk. Unfortunately many of the screens outside Tate Modern weren't working, so we missed out on Julius Caesar, As You Like It, and Henry V. But we saw Hamlet!

At this point I became a bit of a wuss re: the cold. I had dressed warmly, but didn't wear gloves (it's the end of April! Midsummer is two months away!) and despite keeping my hands in my pockets, I was starting to feel uncomfortably cold. We headed back towards Borough, and joined this huge crowd watching Othello. "It's like a football match," said my friend. We didn't attempt to navigate through the crowd, but went up and down the stairs to Southwark Bridge instead.

And finally, this was a lovely end to the day - Elbow in Measure for Measure making the crowd laugh outside the FT building. It was the end to my day, anyway; after my friend and I had something to eat at Borough Market, he headed back to join the queue for returns at The Globe. I went home and warmed up with a coffee!

Elbow: If it please your honour, I am the poor Duke's constable, and my

name is Elbow; I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here

before your good honour two notorious benefactors.

Angelo: Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are they? Are they not

malefactors?

Elbow: If it please your honour, I know not well what they are; but

precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all

profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.

Shakespeare 400: Tragic heroines and passionate pilgrims

It's exactly 400 years since our greatest ever writer died, and I'm off to Bankside this afternoon to join in the Shakespeare celebrations with about a million other people. We won't float off down the river like poor, sweet Ophelia though. You can see this gorgeous Millais painting in Tate Britain, along with his Mariana (from Measure for Measure) and Waterhouse's Lady of Shalott in the same room, if tragic, fictional heroines float your boat.

I used Romeo and Juliet, my favourite play, to illuminate my post for his birthday/deathday last year. Last summer, my little sister (who's autistic and has a limited vocabulary) half-read, half-listened to me reading this rather awesome version of the story as part of the summer reading challenge that children can do through their local library.

I was so pleased when I found out David Austin produce a gorgeous, scented Juliet rose (the peachy rose in the bouquet above), which opens up like a bowl (below).

But I was heartbroken when all but two farms stopped producing my favourite cut rose: the stunning and incredibly-scented Rosalind, named after the character from As You Like It (the blush-pink rose below; the green-tinged rose is Miranda, named after the character from The Tempest).

Emily (aka Shakespeare's Cymbeline) is another cut rose that's hard to find now. It has such a sweet, fruity scent. This was the first purely Emily rose bouquet I made during my short time at David Austin.

I was even more heartbroken when I found out earlier this year that the cut flower department at David Austin is no more, which is all the more heartbreaking given their wonderful new varieties, and the love and care that the florist-growers take when handling them. They know their stuff far better than urban, relatively newbie florists like me ever could. You can still buy the roses wholesale and florists like me will be happy to use them to make your bouquets, but you can't order bouquets to be made up at the heart of David Austin in Albrighton. You can still see their beautiful roses at their rose garden and they continue to grow and develop new varieties, including the new Roald Dahl rose, which will be launched at RHS Chelsea in May and which I am ridiculously excited about! I had planned to go to Chelsea this year, but as my old supervisor, Ann Saxby, is only going to set up on the first day, I won't bother - I will see her when she stays the full week at Hampton Court instead. Some things are more important than being first on the scene.

He that is thy friend indeed,

He will help thee in thy need:

If thou sorrow, he will weep;

If thou wake, he cannot sleep:

Thus of every grief in heart

He with thee doth bear a part.

These are certain signs to know

Faithful friend from flattering foe.

Shakespeare, The Passionate Pilgrim XVIII

Falling (right through the earth) for Alice

You may have noticed that I am a big fan of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. For British Flowers Week last year, I created a tea party of flowers for Alice Day. Last year was the 150th anniversary of the book, and there were celebrations in Oxford and London.

It's World Book Day today (I got confused when I heard people saying it was on Tuesday; I was sure it was usually a Wednesday or a Thursday, but I thought, "Social media wouldn't lie to me, would it?!") and Lewis Carroll's fairytale is the obvious choice. It is our old publishing boss's big birthday (I won't say which) on Saturday, and I made a sort of CBeebies type Mad Hatter's tea party card for him, as he said he didn't want a fuss. Unbirthday cards don't count as fuss, do they?

Last December, I went to the Alice in Wonderland exhibition at the British Library with my old mentor from publishing. She bought me an Alice exercise book to help me organise my various scribblings for my dissertation. I bought a Nursery Alice card for another friend's birthday, and a few days before his birthday, I met him at Waterstones in Trafalgar Square. I looked all around the fiction section, poetry, music, and film, before heading back to the children's section, where I saw him reading the Nursery Alice. The British Library exhibition is on until 17 April and it's free!

I went to an interactive production called Alice's Adventures Underground last summer with my two cousins who were visiting Britain from Canada for the first time. 

The first picture at the top of this post is the programme from this production, and I love how programmes are now playtexts, too. It was the same when I saw The Odyssey at the Liverpool Everyman in October. The London production was a wee bit more expensive than the Liverpool...can you imagine paying £6 for a top tier student ticket on a Saturday night in this heinously expensive capital?!

Earlier this year, I attempted to do Alice/Queen of Hearts nail art. I've not got the steadiest hands, so this was the best I could do.

I'll leave you with the Dormouse and Alice in A Mad Tea Party:

Alice did not quite know what to say to this: so she helped herself to some tea and bread-and-butter, and then turned to the Dormouse, and repeated her question. ‘Why did they live at the bottom of a well?’

The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, ‘It was a treacle-well.’

‘There’s no such thing!’ Alice was beginning very angrily, but the Hatter and the March Hare went ‘Sh! sh!’ and the Dormouse sulkily remarked, ‘If you can’t be civil, you’d better finish the story for yourself.’

‘No, please go on!’ Alice said very humbly; ‘I won’t interrupt again. I dare say there may be one.’

‘One, indeed!’ said the Dormouse indignantly. However, he consented to go on. ‘And so these three little sisters — they were learning to draw, you know —’

‘What did they draw?’ said Alice, quite forgetting her promise.

‘Treacle,’ said the Dormouse, without considering at all this time.