Little Saint Nick: how Christmas got its Santa

6^th December is the feast of St Nicholas - or Little Saint Nick as the Beach Boys referred to him in their 1973 festive offering. I wonder how many readers didn’t know that, or had forgotten. It's a festival that, like many, appeals to me as I love special days and seasons. Every month has its particular feel; I enjoy each of the four seasons for their own atmosphere, and above all for the contrast between them.

I take childlike pleasure in the big festivals - family birthdays, Christmas, Easter, Shrove Tuesday, Halloween - as well as many forgotten, neglected or less universally observed days like Epiphany and Candlemas. Follow the links from those words to read my previous posts about the latter two if you haven’t seen them. Moreover, in my long career as a schoolteacher, I enjoyed the traditional landmark events of the academic year like start of term, end of term, Sports Day, Speech Day, Leavers’ Day etc.

Much of our day-to-day home and working life is by necessity routine and repetitive, so days which feel a bit different help to punctuate the year and to give us something to anticipate with excitement then look back on with warmth and affection.

These days, the retail and hospitality industry tries hard to part us from our money by promoting special days like Valentine’s Day, St Patrick’s Day, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day as occasions for buying cards, gifts and enjoying some special food and drink. Some decry the over-commercialisation of festivals, but I have no problem with it: good luck to hard-pressed retailers or pubs trying to get us to mark an occasion with a card, a gift or a drink.

I also find it interesting that as a society, we seem to crave collective events and enjoy celebrating them: the unexpected and refreshing success of the England football team in the World Cup in Russia palpably raised the spirits of a divided nation for a few heady weeks in summer 2018, and the day of the Semi-Final, an ordinary Wednesday, felt like a public holiday, with beer and burger sales booming as millions with only a passing interest in football used the occasion to go on a night out or invite friends round for a party. Likewise, the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle in May of the same year proved to be a collective celebration in the early summer sunshine, with the kill-joy republicans suddenly going rather quiet as the nation rejoiced in the happiness of a personable couple with a happy knack of seeming connected to ordinary folk yet retaining the dignity and mystique of monarchy. Sadly, two years on, that story appears to have had a less than happy ending.

Yet we in the UK are not very well off for festivals. Despite attempts by some, we English still seem embarrassed by St George’s Day, tainted as it is by the impression that it somehow the province of the Brexiteer generation. I remain very uneasy about it and therefore indifferent to it, not least because the real St George (ethnically Greek by most accounts) had so little connection with our country. The Scots, the Irish, the Welsh, the French, the Americans and many others have no such problem with their own national day.

And unlike our European neighbours, we don’t seem to have been very good at appropriating religious festivals, secularising them and enjoying them, even without any of the belief. The French enjoy public holidays on Catholic feast days like All Saints, Ascension and Pentecost, despite living in a country where religion is constitutionally excluded from public life. A case of not having your cake yet still eating it!

And what about Harvest Festival? Here, it’s marked in churches and primary schools, but nowhere else. But the Americans have combined the notion of giving thanks for food and drink with gratitude for the founding fathers of their nation to create Thanksgiving, a celebration of family life, and which helps keep Christmas where it belongs in December.

At the time of writing, we have reached the time of year when we are being told “it’s Christmas” by everyone from the BBC to Noddy Holder, in a manner which is quite fun but risks having us fed up with Christmas three weeks before the day. Which is where St Nicholas - aka Santa Claus - should be able to help! St Nicholas Day presents a golden opportunity, taken by people in many other countries, to enjoy a little celebration ahead of Christmas.

Having lived in Eastern France for a year in my early 20s, I have ever since celebrated St. Nicholas Day on December 6th. When our children were little, we told them to leave a pair of shoes by the chimney, and in the morning it was filled with a Lindt chocolate Santa or some such. Just a little treat, but a nice way of teaching them the origin of Santa, and a little landmark on the way to Christmas. This custom is widely observed in some cultures.

So who was St. Nicholas?  Many people just know him as Santa Claus. While the modern figure of Santa derives from St. Nick, the real man behind the fictitious Santa was St. Nicholas of Myra. Born in 280 A.D. in Asia Minor, he lost his parents at an early age, but leaving him great wealth when they died. He was known for giving anonymous gifts to help those in need and was eventually made a bishop. He died on December 6th; thus this day is now St. Nicholas Day. He was apparently a generous and kind man, so the association with gift-giving seems obvious. The history of leaving shoes or stockings out for St. Nicholas derives from the story of his leaving small bags of gold for a man and his three daughters. In those days, women had to bring a dowry to a marriage in order to find a good husband. St. Nick heard of a man who had three daughters but could not afford the dowry. Without it, the daughters would most likely enter a life of prostitution instead of being able to marry. According to legend, St. Nick threw three bags of gold through their window at night, saving them from a life at a brothel and creating his reputation as the patron of gift giving.

The feast of St. Nicholas is celebrated around the world in various cultures. In Greece (as well as Albania, Serbia, and Bulgaria), St. Nicholas is celebrated on the eve of his feast day, December 5th. This day is known as Shen’Kolli i Dimnit (Saint Nicholas of Winter). In these cultures, this day is one of fasting. Most people abstain from meat or fast completely or prepare a feast to eat just after midnight.

In Belgium, the Netherlands and parts of eastern France, children leave their shoes or boots in front of the fireplace for St. Nicholas on the evening of December 5^th. Often, they include a carrot or a treat for his horses, as legend has it that he arrived with his horses via sleigh or steamboat in these areas. (a tradition which has transferred into the “sherry and mince pie for Santa, carrot for Rudolph idea for Christmas Eve). 

St. Nicholas is said to arrive on December 6^th and give children small gifts and chocolates. In the weeks leading up to this day, parents and grandparents tell stories of the legend, including a disturbing but popular addition: the story goes that three children wandered away and got lost, and a butcher lured them into his shop where he killed them and salted them away in a large tub. According to legend, St. Nicholas revived the boys and brought them home to their families. This story earned him his reputation as protector of children in France. The butcher (known as “Père Fouettard,” meaning “Father Whipper”) is imagined to follow St. Nicholas in penance and leave lumps of coal or even whips misbehaving children. In France, statues and paintings often portray this event, showing the saint with children in a barrel.

In Germany and Austria (and some other countries in this region), children leave out a boot for St. Nicholas and receive small toys, coins, or sweets. In these areas, St. Nicholas is commonly depicted as a bishop and is often portrayed on a horse. Like in the French story, a sinister companion accompanies him, in this case the even more terrifying demon-like Krampus. This beast is thought to punish children who misbehave and to capture particularly naughty children in his sack and carry them away to his lair. The Krampus has roots in Germanic folklore and its influence has spread to Austria, southern Bavaria, South Tyrol, northern Friuli, Hungary, Slovenia, the Czech Republic, the Slovak Republic, and Croatia.

So St Nicholas is a well-known legendary figure in many countries, and the connections to Santa Claus - gift giving, naughty or nice etc. – are clear, although the timing of his festival is coincidentally near Christmas, rather than because of the Santa connection.

However, the Christmas connections present us with a nice “extra” feast to help us get through the long, excited wait for Christmas. So put your shoes out and see what Little Saint Nick puts in them!

Tous les Visages de l'amour: a tribute to Charles Aznavour

La mort de Charles Aznavour, c'est vraiment la fin d'une époque.  Tristement sous-estimé dans le monde anglophone, ce franco-arménien est pour moi un véritable génie. Quand j'avais seize ans, mon prof de français à essayé de convaincre sa classe qu'Aznavour et ces chansons méritaient notre attention. Nous, on ne le croyait pas. On préférait le rock. Quarante ans plus tard, j'avais changé d'avis, et en tant que prof moi-même, j'ai appris sa musique et ses paroles à mes classes de terminale. Heureusement, mes élèves, surtout les filles, étaient persuadées. J'espère qu'il y a au moins quelques jeunes anglaises en deuil ce soir!

Pour moi, ce qui rend Aznavour spécial, c'est que ses paroles méritent une analyse critique autant que sa musique. Les paroles nous parlent des émotions que nous connaissons tous.

Et en particulier, il nous a parlé de l'amour et du passage du temps, ce que nous comprenons tous:

Un thème prédominant dans la musique, quoi que soit son style, son origine ou son époque, c’est la plus puissante émotion humaine, l’amour. Et la musique d’Aznavour n’est pas une exception, et on pourrait même dire que le thème principal d’Aznavour, c’est l’amour. Pour être plus précis, le titre de sa chanson la mieux connue dans le monde anglophone nous donne un thème plus spécifique: «Tous les Visages de l’Amour». Cette chanson, qui lui a donné son seul grand succès en Grande Bretagne en 1974 sous le titre anglais «She» , a connu un succès secondaire grâce au film anglais «Notting Hill» en 1999, dans lequel une version interprétée par Elvis Costello joue un rôle important. Que ce soit en anglais ou en français, les paroles de cette chanson expriment en termes lucides les joies et les angoisses que l’on trouve dans toutes les relations intimes : « Tu es un ange ou le démon » ;  «Un mot de toi je suis poussière ou je suis Dieu». Mais ce qui est bien clair dans les paroles, c’est que leur auteur croit absolument que ça vaut la peine : «Toi, viens fais de moi ce que tu veux/un homme heureux ou malheureux» sont les mots d’un homme qui comprend très bien que les joies de l’amour sont beaucoup plus fortes que les angoisses.

Dans d’autres chansons, on voit aussi que le compositeur a vraiment vécu ce qu’il nous raconte : il y a des paroles qui nous racontent la passion pure et simple, par exemple «Toi et Moi», mais il y en a d’autres qui racontent des moments plus difficiles, voire douloureuses : «Bon Anniversaire» est une histoire triste, pleine d’humour et surtout pleine de réalisme – il s’agit de l’amour  bien après la passion des premiers rencontres, mais un amour qui survit les problèmes de la vie quotidienne. «La soirée est gâchée mais on a de la chance/puisque nous nous aimons l´amour est le plus fort». Une autre chanson nous raconte une liaison ratée : «Viens pleurer au creux de mon épaule» exprime les mots d’un homme coupable qui ne veut pas que son erreur, aussi grave que ce soit, soit punie. Et dans «Non, je n’ai rien oublié», nous suivons toute une histoire détaillée d’un couple qui se retrouve après on ne sait pas combien de longues années, mais qui ressentent tous les deux la force persistante de cette plus profonde émotion.

Cette dernière chanson a aussi un sens très marqué de la nostalgie exprimé dans son titre, ce qui sert très bien à introduire le deuxième grand thème de la musique d’Aznavour: celui du temps qui passe, même le temps qui s’enfuit. A un certain niveau, il s’agit tout simplement de la nostalgie: Sa chanson peut-être la plus célèbre, certes la plus souvent interprétée par d’autres chanteurs, c’est bien «La Bohême». Une histoire? Une vraie histoire? Peut-être que oui, mais à mon avis il ne s’agit pas d’une lamentation pour une amante perdue, mais plutôt pour un mode de vie perdu, un mode de vie qui en réalité n’existait vraiment pas dans tout son détail, mais qui représente quand même quelque chose de précieux non seulement pour le compositeur, mais aussi pour toute une génération française.  Il regrette le passage du temps et même la perte d’innocence ou peut-être plutôt la perte de la simplicité de la jeunesse quand «nous vivions de l'air du temps», sans soucis pratiques. Ce qui est clair à la fin de cette chanson, c’est que cette vie simple et joyeuse est très éphémère et donc vraiment précieuse.

Une autre chanson nostalgique, c’est bien sûr «Pour faire une Jam» - une chanson en style jazz qui évoque l’ambiance des cafés bohémiens dans la rue de la Huchette au  cœur du Quartier Latin, où le jeune Aznavour a passé son enfance. Celle-ci est une chanson simple et joyeuse mais avec un sens de regret des meilleurs jours d’autrefois. De la même façon, «Mes Emmerdes» est une chanson qui évoque sans regrets et avec une certaine joie les moments d’autrefois.

«Hier Encore», par contre, est une chanson qui exprime plutôt l’agonie de voir le temps s’enfuir, de voir disparaitre sa vie. Elle ressemble dans ses idées au poème «L’Horloge» de Charles Baudelaire, où le poète parle du temps comme un ennemi, un Dieu sinistre qui gagne toujours dans sa bataille permanent contre la vie. «Hier encore» semble exprimer les regrets d’un homme vieillissant qui n’arrive pas à apprécier ce qu’il a réussi dans sa vie, mais qui pense sans cesse à tous ses échecs, tout ce qu’il a raté : «Par ma faute j'ai fait le vide autour de moi et j'ai gâché ma vie et mes jeunes années». On pourrait même dire que ce soit une chanson existentialiste, pour la façon dont elle nous rappelle l’importance des actes dans une vie courte et fragile. Ça, c’est un sentiment fort difficile à comprendre quand on est jeune, mais dans une autre chanson nostalgique qui regrette dans une certaine mesure le passage du temps, on trouve un message nettement plus positif. «Sa Jeunesse» est une chanson qui parle non seulement du passage du temps, mais qui nous conseille de ne pas l’oublier, et donc de saisir tout ce que la vie nous offre en tant que jeunes «Lorsque l'on tient entre ses mains cette richesse/avoir vingt ans, des lendemains pleins de promesses»  - voilà  des mots qui nous rappellent les joies de la jeunesse et l’importance d’en profiter avant que ce soit trop tard - un message plus positif sur le passage du temps, et à mon avis un excellent conseil aux jeunes.

Il existe évidemment une vaste gamme de thèmes traités dans les centaines de chansons de ce chanteur-compositeur extraordinaire: un exemple frappant de la façon dont il ose traiter tous les aspects de la vie humaine, c’était la chanson «Comme ils disent», un traitement sympathique de l’homosexualité, sorti en 1972, bien longtemps avant l’acceptation moderne de l’amour homosexuel.

Mais on peut conclure que les thèmes les plus frappants sont ceux de l’amour et du temps qui passe, et pour moi, ce qu’on ne peut pas nier, c’est que ce sont les deux choses qui nous touchent tous, pratiquement sans exception. Presque tout le monde connaît au cours de sa vie l’amour, que ce soit l’amour réussi ou l’amour raté, souvent tous les deux, et c’est pour cette raison que nous pouvons nous identifier avec les sentiments qu’il exprime, embellis d’une musique si variée et émouvante.

Quant au passage du temps, c’est la seule expérience humaine que nous partageons tous, sans exception. Et donc pour moi, c’est celui-ci qui constitue le plus touchant de ses thèmes. «Car tous les instants/de nos vingt ans/nous sont comptés/et jamais plus/le temps perdu/ne nous fait face/il passe» Voilà des mots qui m’ont vraiment encouragés à profiter au maximum de ma vie.

Voici mon playlist de mes chansons préférées d'Aznavour:

Aznavour Playlist

Going Back

I am writing this post as the wind and rain lashes at my windows. Only yesterday, I was barbecuing in the garden on a perfect summer evening, whilst just a week ago, I was picnicking in balmy sunshine at Lytham’s Fairhaven Lake.

But now it's a wet and windy Sunday afternoon at the start of September, and millions of households will be feeling a strong sense that summer has come to an end. School bags are being packed, pencil cases checked, name tapes sewn into clothing, clean white shirts and blouses taken out of wardrobes. Even in households with no children (or teachers) many will be contemplating a return to work after the summer break. It's time to resume our routines: Farewell, summer days.

In France, this sense is far stronger. It's a season: la Rentrée.  Magazines, newspapers and lifestyle websites in France are full of articles about how to cope with la Rentrée. People wish each other a “Bonne Rentrée”, meaning good wishes for a fresh start in life, work and everything.

For me, this will be the first time since 1962 that I have not started September by embarking on a new academic year. I have retired from my work as a schoolteacher, and so will not be going back to work this week. Yet I still feel, and always have felt, that September feels more like the New Year than the real New Year in January. I suppose this is because I am the son of a teacher, and although I am now retired, my wife and son are teachers, my younger daughter is a welfare assistant in a primary school and my older daughter is a university administrator. So my life is still shaped by the pattern of the academic year, and I have even bought myself a new academic year appointments diary, not least because my old one ran out on August 31st.

September has far more of a sense of change and new beginning than January. Days are noticeably shorter, nights are colder and as has happened today, the weather often turns cold, wet and windy. The sense of change is palpable, far more so than at the change from December to January. Going back to work, school, or university, or even starting a life of retirement as summer turns to autumn, brings with it a sense of renewal, fresh start and resolution. Even the football season is but young, and the sense of hope and optimism felt by every fan in the august sunshine has not yet been deflated by too many defeats.

May I wish all who read this a successful, fulfilling, and above all happy “Rentrée” and I hope that you are buoyed and not depressed by the prospect of cosy evenings by the fire and a new series of Strictly.

Here's a playlist to suit the season, including the one I chose as the title of this post: Going Back, by the incomparable Dusty Springfield:

La Rentrée: a playlist for back to work

Bonne Rentrée!

"Die heilige Cäcilie oder die Gewalt der Musik"

What's this about? What's with the German title?

Well, these words have been in my mind over another wonderfully successful meet-up of the three  twin towns, Kirkham, Ancenis and Bad Brückenau over last weekend, May 15th - 17th. "Die heilige Cäcilie oder die Gewalt der Musik" is the title of a short story by the  18th/19th century German writer Heinrich von Kleist. I studied his work as part of my degree at university many years ago. It's a weird and disturbing tale: I can't remember much detail, but the title refers to St Cecilia, traditionally the patron saint of music and "the power of music", and it's that idea that is my blog post theme.

It's not a remotely original idea, but music is a truly powerful thing. This has been vibrantly apparent over this past weekend in Ancenis, as I have had the pleasure of  being present at the meet-up between the bands of our French and German twin towns. Each of these towns, small provincial communities of around 8000 inhabitants like Kirkham, has a municipal band consisting of ordinary people, who share a love of making music. The two bands are both what we would call "concert bands" - brass, woodwind, and percussion  - and crucially, their members are a mix of genders, ages and social classes. Both bands are directed by young men, and both sets of players give every indication that they simply love making music. When these two bands come together (and like their towns, they are  formally "twinned"), it illustrates very powerfully that music is a common language with the power to transcend boundaries of language and culture. Their repertoire is in both cases mixed, but very much drawn from international common culture, notably from popular classics and anglo-american light music. The two bands clearly enjoy and appreciate each others' work, and frequently play joint concerts, led by one or other conductor, and to witness their work at such times is truly life-enhancing. The common language of music means that they have so much more in common than what divides them.

There is, however, a sad side to this: the lack of an English equivalent. Kirkham has no town band and is frankly unlikely to have one in the foreseeable future. Why is it that a country with our love of music, our artistic talent and creativity, does not foster a culture of music-making in our communities? I don't know the answer, but I have to wonder whether it is a consequence of our education system, which does so much to encourage and value the arts and other extracurricular activities as a big part of how we educate our children. Every British school, primary or secondary, state or private, prides itself on the breadth and quality of what it offers its pupils - look at the website of any school and you will see as much about sport, music and drama as you will about the academic curriculum and exam results. French and German schools pay lip service to the arts and sport, but do not boast anything like the provision that even a poorly resourced school in the UK can demonstrate, and this means, I suspect, that it is outside of school that young people in those countries pursue such activities. Difficult to say which way is better, but I would point out that a crucial disadvantage of the UK model is that it limits severely what people can do after leaving school, and just perhaps fosters an attitude that music, drama and sport is something that kids do at school, watched and admired by their parents, but then "outgrow" as they move on to do more adult things.

I feel really bad saying that, because I work in school which has a wonderful tradition of  sporting, dramatic and musical excellence, and I cannot imagine my school without these excellent activities, but I do wonder whether we in Britain are too dependent on our schools to foster artistic and sporting talent. Like so much else in life, I guess there must be a happy medium, because everything I see and hear about schools in France and Germany makes me value and cherish the "educating the whole person" culture which is so central to the British system. I remember a French national whose son was at my school praising the "polyvalent" nature of the English system which had given his son the chance to sing a Haydn mass, play rugby and act Shakespeare all in one year at the age of 12. Perhaps we in the UK should look at how we encourage  our young people to move on from what they do at school. And especially in music, maybe we should encourage parents and other adults to play with and alongside their children, rather than just standing and watching.