Twenty-fourth Advent Window
Christmas Eve. Look! Old Fox is bringing in the plum pudding, aflame with brandy! Around the oak table in the Morning Room, so many beloved, faces bright with merriment. And there are jugs of thick Dorset cream & a silver thrupenny bit hiding in Grandcub's bowl.
Twenty-third Advent Window.
Hare & his father were having tea at the Hotel Miramar. Buttered crumpets & Welsh rarebit, chocolate cake & Swiss roll.
Watching the winter sun set over the sea, Hare's father suddenly wiped away a tear.
You have been the joy of my life, he said, the joy of my life.
Twenty-third Advent Window.
Half Eleven & Old Fox was having a lovely snooze. His daughter, aided by Babcia, had taken over all the Christmas preparations & they had insisted that Old Fox take it easy & have a good rest for once.
So he had retreated to his study for the morning & very nice too.
Twenty-second Advent Window.
Grandcub was racing around the cottage. Every room, from kitchen to parlour to high attic, was gleaming & full of magic.
There were great boughs of greenery & scarlet berries, yards & yards of brightly coloured paper chains & streamers & stars cut from silver paper.
Twenty-second Advent Window.
Sea Otter, pipe in paw, & Ermine, resplendent in a fringed silk Vionnet shawl, were attending the Midwinter party at the Art Club.
There were experimental cocktails & oyster vol-au-vents, spontaneous recitations & tableaux.
At dawn, they made their farewells and walked down to the Pier, to watch the wild, green sea.
Twenty-first Advent Window.
When Grandcub arrived at the cottage, he stood in wonder just for a few moments before rushing up the path.
He could see Old Fox lighting the candles on the Christmas tree & Wolf eating cake in the parlour, & everything was joy & light & happiness to come.
Twenty-first Advent Window.
Long before the first Midwinter light had begun to fire-sipe over the hills, Old Fox had left the cottage.
Through the snow he went, up to Pooksdown, up to the Barrows, to see the Golden King with the Golden crown who'd long watched over their land & kept them safe from harm.
Twenty-first Advent Window.
Midwinter in the hamlet. High above, two angels passing looked down upon the little cottages. Look, said one.
And there, outside in the snow, was a Russian bear laughing with a little mouse, as they drank currant wine & pointed up to the blaze of Christmas stars.
Twentieth Advent Window.
Grey Brock had been to gather mistletoe in the oak woods. Right time to do it, he told Miss Rabbit, just 'fore the turn o' the sun.
Some went to the Vicarage, some he gave to friends, some he sold in the square, but the last branches he took to Old Fox, as was the tradition back then.
annelouiseavery
Lydia