Wishing you a Spectacular Christmas

Ho Ho Humbug!

If I make it this could be my LXXIIIrd Christmas, and all I can say is that I am relieved it only comes once a year..... 

A rather premature, and hirsute, Baby Jesus at Thursford

{By way of a spoiler alert, I would also like to tell you that this year there will be four full shopping moons between Christmas and Easter (Wolf, Snow, Worm and Pink to be exact)....}

But that is beside itself....  I am writing this in Polish - Polish Pure Christmas Spirit that is...., to wish the world well, inspired as I was, by my first visit to Thursford, yesterday (the day before Thursday, that is).

Welcome to Thursford!

And what, pray, I hear you cry, is Thursford when it's at home?

Ah, you are as ignorant as I were.... or was? 

[Before you saw the light?  Ed.]

Exactly so.

Let me put it like this. In a vast (1,400 seat) shed, in a field, in Norfolk (somewhere between Fakenham and Holt, though it is difficult to be precise in the dark) there are currently c120 performers and a 32 piece orchestra doing their damnedest, upon a 130 foot stage (and in the aisles), to entertain a sea of grey hair and Christmas jumpers.....

The Thursford Christmas Spectacular blows its own trumpet thus: [It] is an extravaganza of non-stop singing, dancing, music, humour and variety. It’s a fast moving celebration of the festive season featuring an eclectic mix of both seasonal and year round favourites.

And they go on: Thursford’s Christmas Spectacular has attracted over 5.8 million visitors to date and is the largest Christmas show in the country.

It is set in the magical surroundings of mechanical organs and fairground carousels, 

with a cast of 120 professional singers, dancers and musicians – most of whom are straight [Perhaps that is a matter of opinion?  Ed] out of the West End. The three hour performance delivers an extravaganza of non-stop singing, dancing, music, humour (adult [Or possibly geriatric? Ed]) and variety. It’s a fast moving celebration of the festive season featuring an eclectic [? Ed] mix of both seasonal and year-round favourites, with famous and much-loved chart toppers being performed alongside traditional carols. 

Please note the finale of the show includes a fly over of  [Very peckish? Ed] white doves across the auditorium. 

Word of this amazing show has spread and it is now generally recognised as being the largest show of its kind in the country, if not Europe. Up to fifty coaches per day travel from all over the country and many of our patrons have visited year on year, turning the trip into a mini holiday staying in the county’s hotels, guest houses and holiday cottages.

Well.  I was (and still am) blowed!

Being a naturally generous paternal figure  and with Christmas heaving up on the starboard bow, I felt it was only right to treat a convenient daughter (sorry, Sarah, but you will live in Australia!) to this extravaganza of non-stop singing, dancing, music, humour and variety.....

And we was/were certainly entertained, (particularly by the finale fly over of white doves.....)

The whole thing is chaperoned by Lloyd Hollett, who is 'apparently' The Comedy Wordsmith [Me neither. Ed].  There is also Robert Wolfe, who has 'apparently' been playing the Wurlitzer here for 44 years [Has he won yet? Ed] although he lives in California [He must have long arms?  Ed]  {Give it a rest.  R}.

And there are special performers....  Danny and Ash Butler dance with their mountain bikes across the stage; Michael and Dario Togni (from the famous Italian circus background) are what may once have been called "tumblers"?  Ukrainian Contortion Act, Anna Biseva and Sofiia Soloviova, demonstrate some acute angles and precarious balances, and Rody Olivares Fernandez is an award-winning Diablo artist [What the devil is that?  Ed].....

[By the way, photography is not permitted during the show, but if you go to Thursford's own website or to their Facebook page there are lots of pictures and a promotional video....]

And as if that wasn't enough there are Christmas carols, numbers from Riverdance [I believe that is an Irish thing?  Ed] The Sound of Music [Something from Austria?  Ed] and even a rendition of John Lennon's Happy Christmas, War is Over.....  And, just for a moment, with a mug of mulled wine and a mince pie, surrounded by tinsel, traction engines, flying reindeer, dancing girls and jolly young men, you could almost forget the world outside, and the proximity of war.....

Almost......

It really is a fine show, and the hundreds of happy pensioners who bussed in from all over the country (some from Teignmouth, some from Bradford) certainly seemed to enjoy themselves, rising with their walking sticks to a standing (well, almost) ovation at the end..... before creaking out into the foggy night, back to their cosy buses.....

*******

But, then, back home, with an eclectic mix of both seasonal and year round favourites gradually fading into the grey, and some of the joys of the festive season dissolving like slush, I find myself about to post my wife's Christmas cards, painstakingly pasted together from cut ups of older ones, and handwritten with messages during lockdown, over four years ago now.  

Dear Amanda.  

She would have loved the Thursford Spectacular - her feet would have been tapping and she would have laughed and smiled along with everything.  It is/was absolutely her kind of fun.  But she isn't here, even though she wrote cards to her friends for every year up to and including 2029.....

It makes me sad, though I know I should rejoice in her memory.

Ah well, Ho Ho Humbug!  Enjoy!  This could be my LXXIIIrd Christmas.  

I wish you all well.

Pax vobiscum.....

And if you haven't ever been, it really is a Christmas Spectacular!

As reviewed in The Guardian (a little read and hardly known northern newspaper) a few years ago:

Thursford Christmas Spectacular review – a sugar rush of festive cheer

Thursford Collection, Norfolk

A fever-dream of outrageous talent and suffocating joy, this extravaganza must be seen to be believed, albeit just the once......

 

Summertime

 And the living is easy?

It is the end of July.  Last night it rained here, a satisfying drench for the parched land, though far from enough.  Today is cloudy, and there may be more water to fall, though it is impossible to second guess the vagaries of this summer.

We haven't had real rain for weeks - possibly months, I haven't been counting.  It could be worse, perhaps.  Not everything is dead:

And this Chiffchaff found some caterpillars to feed to its young:

But this baby Stonechat is going to find its youth cut out with endless searching for grubs:

In the hedgerows there are already signs of autumn.  Hazel nuts begin to ripen:

Crab apples are showing colour on their skins:

The blackberries that have not already shrivelled to nothing are ready to pick:

And sloes are almost ready for the gin:

I shouldn't anthropomorphise but this Sedge Warbler has a worried look....  It knows things aren't right:

And this Yellowhammer pleads for at least a little bit of bread (with no cheese) from a dead twig:

While these Sparrows risk sleepless nights by shredding the unripe elderberries:

It may be all right for Goldfinches - they like thistle down!

But even that may be in short supply after the recent fires:

Which were mercifully controlled by the local brigades (without air support):

But which have exposed the mindless littering of those who come in their droves here to 'enjoy nature!'

It is a wasteland:

Beautiful walks destroyed in the drop of a spark:

Yes, life will go on, perhaps.  This young Robin may grow up to have young of its own:

This Turtle Dove may return next summer to a green and pleasant land:

The plague of Ladybirds, which reminds me of 1976, may not reappear for another 45 years.... perhaps?

The declining populations of butterflies may somehow turn a corner, though, judging by my very recent visit to Holt Country Park, where trees are withering, their leaves crisp and falling, everything is parched to probable death:

African skies are now commonplace:

And high above me a seagull listlessly chases a Buzzard in circles (two dots in the bottom centre), neither of them bothering to scavenge as there is precious little life to eat:

Though they both missed this mole, unable to bury itself in the rock hard ground where no worms survive:

At home our cats wilt in the heat, wasting water needlessly:

And Amanda sleeps uncomfortably on, fortunately unaware of the state we have brought ourselves to:

In my beginning is my end. In succession

Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,

Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place

Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.

Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,

Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth

Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,

Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.

T S Eliot

East Coker