will you still feed me?

My Aunty Joan is my living hero.  Now, almost 97 she has finally come to the place of knowing she can't live on her own anymore.  She is almost blind.  She's had a couple of falls, no serious damage, but enough to show it's not safe to be alone. The little timber cottage in Gatton has been closed up and Joan waited in the local hospital for the next step. That step was something she could not handle herself so her daughters, son and their spouses had to organise a residential home for her. It took a while, but finally she is installed in a lovely unit of a large bedroom/sitting room and a large bathroom, all kitted out with movement sensors and emergency buttons.  There is a dining room and a TV room, and a swimming pool.

"Will you swim?"  I asked.

Joan was never a highly sociable person. As a child she disliked helping with her mother's fund raising bridge parties when she wanted to crawl into a corner to read a book.  Through her teens she studied nursing and as a young woman she faced hard work in several areas.  Later she nursed her husband through heart disease and during his last days Joan slept on the floor by his hospital bed, just to be there for him.  She was 85 when he died.  So then she lived alone for almost 12 years, eventually adjusting to the busy social whirl of meals on wheels deliveries, a fortnightly home help cleaner, visits from a nurse/social worker and an occasional shopping trip on the bus for the elderly. She told me she loved the mango tree that filled the backyard. It was her retreat. When life got too much she'd go out there to feed her face and calm down.

I was interested to hear about social life in the new 'home'.  She is pleased to be one of only three at her table in the dining room. One of the other ladies is very  quiet, and that suits Joan. The other one chatters non-stop and Joan says she just has to accept she will be asked if she takes sugar in her tea over and over again throughout each meal.

95th Birthday cake

She said, "I thought I'd be nice to this poor woman so when she said there was a good film on the television I went with her to watch it. Of course I couldn't see anything as we sat at the back of the room, and I couldn't hear it but she seemed to be enjoying herself and I just tried to stay awake and think about other things. Then the next day I said to her, 'That was an interesting film we saw yesterday'.  And do you know, she didn't have a clue to what I was talking about.  She said, 'What film, I didn't see a film, I went to bed early'.  So that was a waste of time." This was presented in the tone of dry humour that is my Aunty Joan. The humour that wraps around ordinary things and makes them amusing from her point of view. 

I choose to phone her rather than visit because visits are physically exhausting for her.  Joan has children who visit her regularly and I have phone calls - and she phones me as often as I phone her.  That is very special.  She told me once that she has the names of her children and grand-children written in a notebook by the phone so she can remember who everyone is and who to ask about.  And one day I realised my end of the family is on the list too as she asks after my sister and brother and then our children in order, during conversations.  I'm delighted to be 'on the list'.  My daughter she calls 'your girl' and my granddaughter is 'the little one', as she knows them the best from the family gatherings for her 90th and 95th birthday celebrations.  "And I'm not having another one for 5 years", she said each time.  

It was wonderful that for the 90th birthday her cousin Ian came up to Brisbane, from Sydney, for the event. Their mothers were sisters and though Ian was a bit younger he spent a lot of time with Joan and my mother. Now he is no longer available for parties or anything else leaving Joan as the surviving member of that generation, in our family.

But, Joan was not born as an old lady.  She was a vibrant young woman who did well at school and wanted to continue studying. Her exotic looks were not appreciated by her blond haired, blue eyed mother so Joan grew up thinking she was not attractive and would have to fend for herself.  Careers for women were limited to nursing or teaching and Joan followed her mother and aunts into nursing.  The war came and she was patching up Aussies wounded in the mountain jungles of New Guinea. One wounded soldier staggered down the Kokoda track and into her life.

My uncle talked of their meeting at their 50th Wedding Anniversay celebration.  "Joan was an Army nurse. After being wounded on the Kokoda trail I was delivered to her at a Military hospital in Sydney in Dec 1942. Joan was an energetic business-like officer with two pips on her shoulders and me a lowly corporal with two stripes on my sleeve. I was a little the worse for wear but was slowly brought back to working order with her help. Then Joan was sent off to the war in New Guinea and I went to work in Sydney for a firm of wool brokers."

His elbow had been shot away so doctors gave him the choice of having the arm permanently set straight or bent.  He chose bent so he could ride a horse and shoot a rifle. As he had studied wool classing before he joined the army Don went back to that city job, but the 'bush' was always in his heart. When Joan returned from the war they were married and Don worked as a station manager, just west of Charleville and a year or so later moved to Murweh.

Joan told me, "Don finally won the soldiers ballot for free land. Mogera was 80,000 acres of rough country inhabited by dingoes.  We chose a paddock near a dry dam and pitched a big army tent for a bedroom. Don built an iron shed for a kitchen and a bough shed to 'live in'! Our fourth child was born at Mogera 1952."

The iron shed was too hot so cooking was on an open fire outside and the baby was hung in a sling from the tent post, to protect him from snakes. The children played in the dust under the gaze of wild dingoes - starving in the drought and on the lookout for easy prey.  They had no water, no fences and no grass. Don pushed down Mulga scrub for the sheep to eat and guarded them on horseback. Then the wool boom burst and the price went down overnight. Don had a fall from the horse and a long stay in hospital.

Eventually a house was built, the station sold and another bought closer to town. At least the children could attend school but the school burnt down and Joan had to teach them at home after all. And, as Don described it, this venture turned out to be a non-profit business. Life was a battle with heat, drought, snakes in the wood pile, distance from family, from friends, even from the post office. Visitors were few. Sheep had to be cared for, fed, sheared, drenched, sometimes killed and eaten. Dogs and horses had to be trained, fed and cared for. Shearers were accommodated and fed, cows herded and milked, fruit cakes baked, dingoes and wild pigs hunted, kangaroos discouraged, snakes killed, beggars and thieves chased from the door, children educated, clothes made, books read by lantern light, clothing washed by hand, wood chopped, fires put out, fire breaks burned, neighbours helped, illnesses treated, wounds bandaged, vehicles repaired and each day started it all over again.

Finally a generator added evenings to their day, better vehicles brought the town closer and telephones connected the family. The outback station was sold and a smaller produce farm, a few hours from Brisbane, became home. Four children turned into two nurses, an engineer and business woman, six grandchildren and two great grandchildren.   

The house near Charleville - Joan's sister Margaret (my mother) visiting.

Of course Aunty Joan is not the only person to live a life of struggle and difficulty and she told me that herself when she talked about the desperate situation of other families during the depression. She has memories of going in the car with her father to deliver food parcels, until the family business closed and they could no longer afford to help others as they were also eating wild caught rabbits and home grown potatoes. The family lost their home and when her parent's marriage broke up Joan was sent to live with her mother's sister - not a big disaster for Joan as her cousin Claire was her best friend. Little sister Peg stayed with Mother while Father moved in with his former secretary. The loss of her father that way hurt Joan deeply, a hurt that is still there today, though it lives in the shadow of losing her oldest daughter to cancer, the same year that Don died. 

Joan once said to me - "We each have our own life and how we live it depends on the bits we inherit from parents."

And so I asked about her new home.

"It's all very nice," she said. "In fact it's luxury but I suppose I'll get used to it."  lol  "I'm not sure about the pool though."

'What do you do during the day?

"I read, I've got a nice chair here and there is a library. In the afternoon someone brings me a cup of tea, it's all very nice. I have lots of little sleeps. I can go to the TV room if I want, but I'm not interested in television now."

"Do you need anything? A fruit cake or a packet of biscuits?"

"I have some biscuits in the room but I can't eat them because I'm always full."

"Maybe I'll bring you a little bottle of coke when I come."

"He he, yes, that would be nice. But I have to be careful because I only have rotten teeth left."

"How's the food?"

"Oh, it's ..... it's alright. There's plenty of it."

Hmmmm - change in tone. She won't explain unless I insist.

"What is wrong with the food?"

" Well... it's not what I'm used to."

"You were used to meals-on-wheels."

"Yes."

"And this is different?"

"It's .... the way they ... present it."

"How?"

"It's frozen."

"Oh!"

"Apparently, this is what all the big hospitals do."

"And the meals-on-wheels were cooked fresh each day."

"Yes......  it was like I used to cook myself."

"Some frozen food is okay."

"Some is."
"Even meals-on-wheels is going to frozen dinners in some places."
"That's a shame."
"So you're eating airplane food."
She laughed. "They do whatever they do to heat it and it tastes okay. Rice is a bit .......... well ... let's say I've had enough chicken and rice to last me."

I am so sorry. So sorry that we can't give our darling oldies fresh food, sorry that our infirm get microwave dinners served in cardboard trays, with instant mashed potato and dried out beef. So sorry that your reward for a life of caring for others is that we can't afford to feed you properly. Forget about the wounded soldiers, the dust and dingoes, the barefooted children and snakes in the woodpile - forget about the sacrifice, the pioneer spirit, the building of family, here - have a frozen dinner.  

Caring for our elders should be part of family life. Children who don't see their grandparents regularly, if not daily, are missing an important part of their development and they lose track of where they are in history.

In traditional societies people look forward to living out their last years surrounded by their children and aging friends. Ancient Chinese society was held together by the belief in family. The greatest virtue being devotion to one’s parents.  They still respect the declining abilities of the aged to tend gardens, care for babies, assist in the education of children - allowing the young adults to work. Value is given to craft work, sharing skills, knowledge and understanding of life and passing on the family stories.  In sedentary farming societies around the world, the elderly are fed and cared for and live in the same hut or one near their adult children.

With nomadic people the elderly can become a burden and occasionally tribes were forced to abandon their aged and infirm. There is even a word for it.  Senilicide. It loosely means doing away with the olds.  When there is enough food to go around, everyone gets a share, even those who are not productive. During times of famine not feeding the elderly often saved the young.  When desperate, the Inuit left their old folk outside to die of exposure or starve to death, considering it to be assisted suicide. It was often a mutual decision.

Today's elderly live away from their children. After they do the expected retirement road trip they're supposed to quietly disappear into assisted living villages or nursing homes - if they can afford it, or a council flat, out of sight, until required for weddings and funerals. They feed themselves, they feed cats and lap dogs and sometimes go without.

We are all part of the aging population. Grannies struggling to keep up with technology give the smart young things the impression that old people have no place in the modern world. These old people are eating food, breathing air, using up valuable natural resources and clogging the medical system - becoming a burden. Some hospitals have a policy of treating young people first, some doctors prescribe drugs with little attention given to good health for the elderly, it's easier and cheaper. A version of senilicide has been practiced in hospitals and nursing homes for centuries - withhold food and they fade away. 

Often they don't really mind - being very old is not fun. But what is old? It's getting younger every year. Applying for a job is difficult at 55 and TV ads tell us we should be buying funeral insurance in our 40s. The Protestant work ethic of measuring a person's value by their ability to work - has led to our youth centred culture in which we idolise individualism and independence. In 2004, France had to pass decree requiring citizens keep in touch with their geriatric parents after a heat wave killed 15,000 people - most of them elderly and many bodies were not found for weeks because of neglect by their families. Also, France had the highest number of pensioner suicides in Europe.

So what are we going to do? Maybe these huge modern houses with parent retreats, teenager's living area and home theatres should also include granny flats, for us - but that depends on our children becoming millionaires. The question of where we'll end up when we can no longer manage independently is a big one.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, 
when I'm sixty/eighty four?

on the12 Days of Christmas

Another Christmas over, and all the crazy activity, panic gift buying, mind blowing decorations, and far too much food has been gobbled up and choked down. Sadly, the lovely songs, hymns and carols from Christmas will be packed away too and that is a shame. There is no reason we can't sing them all year.

I recently had an email about the song, The 12 days of Christmas - someone knows I am interested in origins, and so I had a look at the song and the known history.  I always thought of it as a folk song and as children we used it as a counting back song, having fun getting the gifts in correct order, especially at the end. Technically it is a cumulative song, that is each verse builds on top of the previous verses. 

The actual 12 Days of Christmas is the annual festive period on the Catholic calendar (and maybe Anglican) beginning on December 25 and going until January 6th - which is Twelfth Night or the Feast of the Epiphany.  Other importance was attached to the Twelve Days as the weather on each day was carefully observed to predict what it would be in the corresponding month of the coming year.

Each of the 12 verses describe a gift given by 'my true love' on one of the 12 days of Christmas.

Gift giving at Christmas time, during the middle ages, was not within the family, but wealthy people gave money to the poor on St Steven's Day/ Boxing Day. Servants, who had worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Day often had a holiday on the day after Christmas and were given Christmas Boxes of leftover food and gifts or money, to take home and share with their families.

Over hundreds of years, and with improvements in living standards, different groups developed various gift giving traditions with some giving gifts on Twelfth Night, some on Christmas Day and some on various days in between. If it were possible to give the gifts mentioned in the song, you might not get much change from $60,000 in today's money.

The oldest English version if the song was printed in children's book called Mirth without Mischief, in 1780. The rhyme, then called The Twelve Days of Christmas sung at King Pepin's Ball, was suggested as a Twelfth Night  memories-and-forfeits  game. This is what children did before television. A leader recited a verse, each of the players repeated the verse, the leader added another verse, and so on until one of the players made a mistake.  That player had to pay a penalty, such as offering up a kiss, for the teens, or a sweet, for the little children.  One hundred years later, a collector of folktales and rhymes, described how it was played every Twelfth Day night before eating mince pies and twelfth cake.

The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the 1st day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

A Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 2nd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 4th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves,

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 6th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,6 Geese-a-Laying, 5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens,

2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 7th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

7 swans a swimming, 6 geese a laying, 5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds

3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 8th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

8 Maids-a-Milking, 7 swans a swimming, 6 geese a laying, 5 Gold Rings

4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids-a-Milking, 7 swans a swimming6 geese a laying, 5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds

3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 10th Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

10 Lords-a-Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids-a-Milking

7 swans a swimming, 6 geese a laying, 5 Gold Rings

4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

11 Pipers Piping, 10 Lords-a-Leaping, 9 Ladies Dancing

8 Maids-a-Milking, 7 swans a swimming, 6 geese a laying

5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds, 3 French Hens

2 Turtle Doves, And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,

12 Drummers Drumming, 11 Pipers Piping, 10 Lords-a-Leaping

9 Ladies Dancing, 8 Maids-a-Milking, 7 swans a swimming

6 geese a laying, 5 Gold Rings, 4 Calling Birds

3 French Hens, 2 Turtle Doves

And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.

The lyrics have varied over the years, as happens with folk songs that travel. In early versions the gifts were 'sent to me' and later 'my true love gave to me'.   The 1780 version mentions 4 colly birds, a regional name for black birds.  This has changed through the years to canary birds, coloured birds and now calling birds in the popular version.  I was taught to put the partridge IN a pear tree, but some sing a partridge AND a pear tree. There is a suggestion that all the gifts were originally birds, the five gold rings being the markings on the ringed pheasant or five goldspinks (goldfinches) and those five gold rings have become five golden rings, possibly to fit the music.

In the north of England there were only 10 gifts and 10 verses, in others the last four gifts were changed around so the order of the Lords and Ladies were swapped with the musicians. As the song spread the gifts changed, this changed the song and some versions became alliterative tongue-twisters. That sounds interesting.

Far away in the Faroe Islands, which are between Norway and Iceland but belong to the Kingdom of Denmark, the gifts have changed to; one feather, two geese, three sides of meat, four sheep, five cows, six oxen, seven dishes, eight ponies, nine banners, ten barrels, eleven goats, twelve men, thirteen hides, fourteen rounds of cheese and fifteen deer.  In the late 1990's these appeared on a series of just two stamps. (Now that's fascinating trivia)

A novel published in 1862 gives us, my true love sent me five hares running, four ducks quacking, three fat hens, two turtle doves. a partridge and a pear-tree.  And a Scottish version includes an Arabian baboon and three stalks o'merry corn. Of course in modern times we like variety and there are versions that include Australian animals and whatever else you can think up.

There were several melodies for the song but the one we know
 today was added to the lyrics in 1909 by Frederic Austin. It was an
 arrangement of a traditional tune, to which he added his own 2 bar motif for five gold rings. He also added the four calling birds. Those who understand the history of music say the song's folk origin is obvious by inconsistencies such as - the introductory lines are made up of two 4/4 bars, while the lines of gifts have one 3/4 bar changing again on the Partridge. This is not an area I understand though it is vaguely familiar from music lessons I had at school.  The melody of the second to fourth verses is different in the fifth to twelfth verses .... which is understandable as there are more words. I think this is the beauty of folk music - no rules because the lyrics and the melody has been added to and embroidered like a crazy patchwork quilt, until we were able to record it and insist that it never changes again.

So, the email I was sent stated that the song in fact was a coded message for Catholic children. During the English Reformation of the 16 century the Roman Catholics in England were persecuted and driven underground. The story goes that this 'carol' was written as a catechism song for children. The gifts are codes for points of Catholic belief.

The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus Christ. Some say the tree represents the cross.

2  turtle doves were the Old and New Testaments

3  French hens stood for faith, hope and love.

4   calling birds were the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.

5   golden rings recalled the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old Testament.

6   geese a-laying stood for the six days of creation.

7  swans a-swimming represented the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit - Prophesy, Serving, Teaching,   Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.

8  maids a-milking were the eight beatitudes.

9  Ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit-Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.

10 Lords a-leaping were the ten commandments.

11 pipers piping stood for the eleven faithful disciples.

12 drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.

So, is this a secret, hidden for centruries, or is it a fun folk song that doubles as a counting lesson?

I don't give references with my research because anyone can find the same information on the net and if I give all the references it would fill up my page, and that's my job. Also, if someone else decided to check what I've said through google, they might find even better information than I have found.

This theory of an underground catechism song for oppressed Catholics was not mentioned anywhere until a Canadian English teacher, and part-time hymnologist published an article in 1979. A Catholic priest picked up the idea and wrote an article in 1982, claiming that there were old letters from priests and interviews with elderly Canadian Catholics to support it .... but in the end the evidence he offered was, "I can at most report what this song's symbols have suggested to me in the course of four decades".  Fair enough I think, in fact I rather like that as evidence.

But, historians, who know their stuff, dispute the interpretation and the underlying premise making comments such as;

"This was not originally a Catholic song, no matter what you hear on the Internet, neutral reference books say this is nonsense",

"Every religious song, every religious carol has at least depth in it, something that has some spirituality in it. This is frothy, light and frothy.""If you think of all the things being presented, you realize they're all gifts from a lover to a woman. Some of them are rather impossible to give, like eight maids a milking and nine ladies dancing. All those ladies and dancing and pipers and drums imply this is a wedding."

"There are the decidedly un-biblical fertility symbols — the partridge in a pear tree, for example. The pear is equivalent to the heart and the partridge is a famous aphrodisiac. And how about those six geese a-laying! Seven of the song's 12 verses feature birds of various kinds, all of them symbols of fertility. The whole song seems to me to point to a festival of joy and love more appropriate to a secular holiday like Valentine's Day or May Day than a religious holiday"

"The validity of the song’s second verse has always been questionable for the simple reason turtle doves leave English shores and begin migrating south from the end of September".

There is the French connection; 
"At least three similar New Years' or spring French carols feature a partridge, perfriz or perdriole, as the first gift.  The pear tree appears only in the English version, but the 'pear-tree' could be perdrix (Old French pertriz) carried into English as pear tree. There is a French red-legged partridge that frequently perches in trees.  A juniper trees apprears in some English versions and that may have come from the French 'joli perdrix' meaning pretty partridge.  The adjective 'French' in 'three French hens', probably simply means foreign.

 And  ... the argument was still going on in 2000,

"This is a genuine urban myth. There are a number of clues that give it away as a tall tale but most important is the fact that none of the supposedly secret meanings is distinctly Catholic. None of the twelve codes would have been considered anything but normal Christian orthodoxy by the Protestants which ruled England at the time, so it would not need to have been imparted clandestinely. If any of the meanings had been about the special status for Catholics accorded by Mary during her brief rule (1553-1558) or the theology of the Mass or papal monarchy, etc. then the story might be more believable. In fact "the 12 Days" is just one of a number of similar counting songs found in almost every European language."

So, it seems there is no evidence that underground catechism songs for Catholics were common, or even existed during or after the English Reformation.  There are a few examples of accumulative catechism songs, "Green grow the rushes, O," and "Go where I send thee", and there are "coded" nursery rhymes, Sing a song of sixpence and Rock-a-by, baby, but none of them qualify in terms of having hidden meanings  and also Catholic meanings.

Could it be that the "The Twelve Days of Christmas" originated as a religious song and was kept so secret or had such a covert meaning, that it was simply forgotten by the mid-1800s?  What do you think? 

ONCE UPON A TIME

 'Upon a day' or 'Once upon a time' has long been a traditional opening for myths, fables and folklore.  For most of us the phrase would belong to our earliest memories of listening to stories. I loved story time and looking at my books. I was delighted when my mother acted out parts of the story as she read and used squeaky voices.  But, those fairy tales they read to us when we were very young were often nicely revised versions of folk tales - originally almost horror stories designed to entertain with fright or teach lessons. 

Fairy Tales, originally called Little Tales, usually involved fantasy with magical creatures, curses, goblins, witches spells and the like. They often began with 'once upon a time', referring to a supposed age when magic was still in use. One old German opening was 'In the old times when wishing was still effective'.

Folk tales and legends included actual events and were often stories for adults while moral tales, including beast fables (animal characters) were told to adults and children.  Many stories appeared in a variety of languages, with changes to suit the local culture.

Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm travelled Germany writing down the folk tales told to them by a variety of people. They published a book titled 'Children's and Household Tales', volume one in 1812 and volume 2 in 1815 with a total of 83 stories.

The Brothers Grimm continued to add to the collection  and now we can read 200 stories under their name.  Stories without proven German origins were rejected and the brothers rewrote many tales to make them more acceptable to families. We now refer to their collection as Grimm's Fairy Tales.

Many of those tales have been made over again by the Walt Disney machine and what once were stories of horror, mutilation, curses and despair are now mostly plastic sugar and spice.

Hans Christian Anderson

The brothers Grimm inspired others to collect tales in their own language and writers such as Hans Christian Anderson continued writing tales that often drew on fables.  First published in 1822, his stories have been translated into over 125 languages, including The Emperor's New Clothes, The Princess and the Pea, Thumbelina and one I remember very well, The Tinderbox, live on today.

Whether they are fables or folk tales we all love the stories and new tales are being written for future generations. One of my favourites, by Oscar Wilde was published in 1888 - 'The Selfish Giant' - a moral tale of self sacrifice.

And from the Grimm collection;

The Pied Piper: (pied being a sort of patchwork of different colours) In the original story the piper rids the town of rats and when the town leaders refuse to pay him he leads the children to, not a wonderful paradise, but the river where they all drown.  That'll learn 'em.

Snow White: The evil queen wants Snow White killed because she is prettier than the queen. The hunter is told to take Snow into the forest and kill her,  cutting out not just her heart, but her liver and lungs too which were to be served for dinner in the palace.  Later when the Prince finds a dead Snow White in the forest, he hoists her body onto his horse and this jostling awakens her - not the Disney kiss.  When exposed in the end as an evil woman, the queen is welded into red hot iron shoes and forced to dance herself to death. ewwwwww

Cinderella: The Cinderella story dates back to 1st century BC in different forms, with different names.  In the version collected by the Grimm brothers the ugly sisters cut off parts of their feet to fit into the glass slipper. Does the Prince not notice the pools of blood? Eventually their eyes are plucked out by pigeons and they spend the rest of their lives as blind beggars, while Cinders enjoys a life of luxury in the castle.

Little Red Riding Hood or Little Red Cap:  This story was so horrible even the brothers Grimm had to nice'n it up.  In the original versions there was no woodsman to rescue Red and sometimes not even a grandmother. We tell this tale to babies when it's really about a young girl being seduced by a wolf and losing her virginity. An old saying from France, referring to a girl losing her virginity, translates as 'she saw the wolf'. In some versions, to illustrate that her life is over, the wolf eats her up.

Sleeping Beauty: A young woman falls into a deep sleep as the result of a prophecy. While unconscious she is raped by the King, gets pregnant, delivers twins and it is her children who finally wake her, not the modern day kiss of a handsome prince.

Hansel and Gretel: This is a scary story even today but in an early French version, called The Lost Children, the wicked witch was actually the devil.  The devils wife attempts to help the children but they are forced to trick her and then they slit her throat to aid their escape.

The Frog Prince: In the Grimm collection there is no magical kiss. The frog makes a bargain with the Princess to take him home to the palace to live. He gets closer and closer to her until he is in her bed but she throws him against the wall. Somehow this turns him into a Prince ... and it's a little confusing.

Rapunzel: Letting down her hair too often gets Rapunzel in the family way so the witch cuts off her hair and sends her away.  When the Prince comes back the witch lets down the hair for him. He is afraid of the witch, rejects her advances and she pushes him out the window. He falls into thorn bushes and brambles, which blind him, so he wanders the forest forever.

The Little Mermaid: One of many by Hans Christian Anderson this story originally ended with the mermaid's suicide, after watching her Prince marry a human Princess. Walt Disney added the happy ending we have today.

The Story of the Three Bears:  First published in 1837, this story by English author and poet, Robert Southey, featured a malicious old woman who invades the home of three male bears. As early as 1813 Southey had been telling the story to friends in various versions including a fox or vixen as the female. It is possible that this version had been a traditional oral tale. By 1849 Southey had changed the old woman to an intrusive little girl, who was given various names referring to her hair colour until she became Goldilocks early in the 20th century, and the three male bears evolved into father, mother and baby bear. The oral tale ending with the intruder being torn to pieces by the bears became the soft cuddly family story that is the most popular tale in the English language today. It comes under the banner of fairy tales even though it is more of an animal fable. The underlying theme of harsh punishment for those who trespass in areas they should not has changed to one of accepting others who seem different and making life 'just right', with the bears being the good guys. Some cartoon versions today show Goldi remaining with the bears to live happily ever after.

Usually this happy ending refers to the main characters only and indicates a work of fiction. It also gives us the comfort so necessary today.  While we read 'they lived happily ever after', many years ago it was 'and they all lived happily in the ever after'. 

and KEEPING CALM

Once upon a time, in the north east of England, there were two lovely people named Manley.  Mary Manley, who was American born, and her English husband, Stuart Manley, who had a small manufacturing business in an old Victorian Railway station in the little town of Alnwick. Mary dreamed of opening a second hand book shop, using the swap system, and she planned to call it Barter Books. Fortunately Stuart liked the idea and said she could use the front room, of the railway station, for her book shop. So she did and Barter Books opened in 1991.

Skipping to the year 2000, Stuart was unpacking a box of old books they had picked up at auction, when, at the bottom of the box he found a sheet of folded paper. It turned out to be an old poster. He liked it and showed it to Mary. She liked it too, so much that without knowing anything about it she had the poster framed and put it up in the shop. 

Customers in the book shop noticed the poster and asked if they could buy one. So Mary and Stuart had copies printed and soon they were selling posters, over 40,000 copies in the first 8 years. 

The Keep Calm message was so popular it soon spread around the world, but where had it come from?

Going back 61 years to early 1939, when England faced the threat of another war,   The Ministry of Information commissioned three inspirational posters to be used in the interest of public safety - to assure the population that all necessary steps to defend the nation were being taken, and to stress an attitude of mind, during the difficult times they expected were ahead.

As the posters conveyed a message from the King to his people they were designed to be difficult to counterfeit -  with a handsome typeface topped by the crown of King George Vl, on a plain coloured background. Five million posters were printed.

The first poster stated ...

                    Freedom Is In Peril. Defend It With All Your Might.

... to alert the population to the seriousness of war.

The second poster stated ...

                    Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness,

                    Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory.

... to encourage the nation to rally as one.

The second poster states ...

                    Keep Calm and Carry On.

... to reassure people when the country was invaded or occupied.

Posters 1 & 2 were displayed in public places - Railway Stations, Post Offices and shop windows from September 1939.   

Poster 3 was never used.

At the end of the war the unused posters were sent off to be destroyed ... all, it seems, except one, and it remained out of sight until discovered in a box of books more than 60 years later.

The posters Mary and Stuart sold were so popular the message was shared on line and suddenly Keep Calm and Carry On belonged to everyone. 

In 2007 online shops were selling the slogan on T-shirts and bags. Then one T-shirt company released a range of shirts that spoofed the poster such as Keep Calm and carry on sewing or Now Panic and Freak Out. Before long web stores allowed customers to design their own Keep Calm slogans.

By 2009 England was dealing with the global economic crisis and the attitude of mind conveyed by Keep Calm and Carry On became a strength to people who were struggling. At one stage 85 variations of the poster were recorded and it has become one of the first icons of the 21st century, appearing on walls, clothing, crockery, tote bags, and all types of souvenirs.

I was delighted when I discovered this story and to me this expression of keeping on is one to be celebrated. Firstly because in 1939 it was NOT needed. There was no invasion and no occupation.  But, the poster survived for over 60 years to bring the message of encouragement to the following generations - a reassurance that we go on, no matter what comes, to live our lives, to do our work and to care for each other.

We do not always understand the politics or economics of our world but we all have a place here, we all have a part to play in life on this planet - we just have to keep calm and carry on with it.

But back to the book shop.  The original building was designed by William Bell in 1887. As a railway station it was huge, 32,000 sq feet, far too grand for a small market town - but the town was also the seat of the Dukes of Northumberland, who would attract visiting royalty and so an impressive structure was necessary. The line closed in 1968 and the station building was put to several uses before becoming Barter Books.

The shop has many attractions, apart from a huge selection of second hand books, including open fires in winter, a refreshment room with skylights, a model railway, huge art works, free wifi, a children's room, plenty of seating, a reading room with newspapers and a display of antiquarian books. It's almost worth a trip to England to visit Barter Books.

Station built in 1887 - and as it is today