22nd December - A Carol

Good morning, my Christmas Chums!  Ever closer we shuffle to the big day, which is handy as I'm running out of images that I want to use, and I have my top two saved for tomorrow and Saturday. Mind you, I'm rather partial to this little gem...

A Carol Edward Frampton

Oh, Edward Frampton, you genius.  This is so utterly delightful and the aspect is so intimate.  You feel like you are stood next to these little angels as they hold open their inordinately large carol book.  Really, it's a bit big, it seems to take three of them to hold it.  I'm guessing photocopied sheets wouldn't have looked so effective.  I wonder if you can get entire carol books on your Kindle, then all you'd need to do is carry round the little machine, rather than the gianty book of Christmas.  Less effective again, I admit.  Gianty book it is.

I love the way their halos block each of the faces, so we don't get a clear view of anyone, just a general sense of pale, serious expressions and golden glints.  Their clothes are so pretty, I particularly fancy wearing the green dress in the centre.  Now, I'm off to a Christingle Service on Saturday, in the middle of Wiltshire, so I may well wear my halo and green dress to that, the only snag being I don't have either, plus I will be gleefully inserting children into costumes (there will be a fair bit of 'shepherds in teatowels' action, trust me) and I don't think the dresses, pretty as they are, allow for the amount of crawling, bending and dashing about that is often needed when controlling kids, even my own.

There is something essentially calming about Medievalism and Christmas, an austerity that says 'You can have Christmas, but you're going to have to bloody well calm down and be serious', and I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing at times.  The Victorian Christmas of raucous family eating until you explode, drinking to excess, and singing loudly is marvellous, but looking at these three lovely girls you have a sense that you can also enjoy yourself quietly, introspectively, without a turkey leg in one hand and a pint of sherry in the other.  May each of your Christmases be a little bit of both: a bit orgy and a bit Frampton.

Think of me as I am out today doing the food shopping, I may not survive, which is a shame because my last two pictures are gorgeous...

See you tomorrow (hopefully)...