The Usual Dickens Suspects

A repeat from a few years ago.

Just a compilation of wonderful character names found in the works of the great Charles Dickens, eminent novelist and socio-political commentator of 19th Century life in England.

Photo from the New York Public Library

The idea was encouraged by the current BBC Dickensian series of a fictionalised drama using a whole host of the main figures in his best known literature.

You may find a particular favourite from your own reading and re-reading as there are indeed many beloved characters.

I just like the rhythm and poeticism of many of the names or just the mischievous humour of Dickens in such examples as Anne Chickenstalker, Charity Pecksniff, Decimus Tite Barnacle and many that in the modern context just sound rude and risque....,step forward Dick Swiveller, Fanny Cleaver and Henry Wititterley.

My own personal favourite, there is no argument about it, just the individual by the name of Mealy Potatoes from David Copperfield.

Abel Garland -Old Curiosity Shop
Abbey Potterson -Our Mutual Friend
Abel Magwich -Great Expectations
Ada Clare -Bleak House
Adolphus Tetterby -the Haunted Man
Affery Flintwinch -Little Dorrit
Alexandre Manette, -Dr. A Tale of Two Cities
Agnes Fleming -Oliver Twist
Alfred Heathfield -the Battle of Life
Agnes Wickfield -David Copperfield
Alfred Jingle -Pickwick Papers
Alice Brown -Marwood Dombey and Son
Alfred Lammle- Our Mutual Friend
Amy Dorrit -Little Dorrit
Alfred Mantalini -Nicholas Nickelby
Anastasia Veneering -Our Mutual Friend
Allan Woodcourt -Bleak House
Anne Chickenstalker -the Chimes
Anthony Chuzzlewit- Martin Chuzzlewit
Annie Strong -David Copperfield
Anthony Jeddler -the Battle of Life
Arabella Allen -Pickwick Papers
Arthur Clennam  -Little Dorrit
Bella Wilfer -Our Mutual Friend
Arthur Gride -Nicholas Nickelby
Belle -A Christmas Carol
Arthur Havisham -Great Expectations
Bertha Plummer -Cricket on the Hearth
Augustus Folair (Tommy) -Nicholas Nickelby
Betsy (Bet) -Oliver Twist
Augustus Snodgrass -Pickwick Papers
Betsy Prig -Martin Chuzzlewit
Barkis -David Copperfield
Betsy Quilp -Old Curiosity Shop
Barnaby Rudge -Barnaby Rudge
Betsy Trotwood  -David Copperfield
Bayham Badger -Bleak House
Betty Higden -Our Mutual Friend
Bazzard  -Mystery of Edwin Drood
Biddy -Great Expectations
Benjamin Allen  -Pickwick Papers
Caroline "Caddy" Jellyby Bleak House
Benjamin Bailey   Martin Chuzzlewit
Charity Pecksniff "Cherry" Martin Chuzzlewit
Bentley Drummle Great Expectations
Charlotte Neckett "Charley" Bleak House
Bill Sikes Oliver Twist
Clara Barley Great Expectations
Bitzer Hard Times
Clara Copperfield David Copperfield
Blathers Oliver Twist
Clara Peggotty David Copperfield
Bob Cratchit A Christmas Carol
Clarissa Spenlow David Copperfield
Bob Sawyer Pickwick Papers
Clemency Newcome the Battle of Life
Bradley Headstone Our Mutual Friend
Cleopatra Skewton Dombey and Son
Brownlow Oliver Twist
Clickett    David Copperfield
Bucket Bleak House
Cornelia Blimber Dombey and Son
Bumble    Oliver Twist
Defarge, Madame a Tale of Two Cities
Caleb Plummer    Cricket on the Hearth
Dolly Varden Barnaby Rudge
Canon Crisparkle Mystery of Edwin Drood
Dora Copperfield David Copperfield
Charles Bates Oliver Twist
Dora Spenlow David Copperfield
Charles Cheeryble Nicholas Nickelby
Edith Granger Dombey and Son
Charles Darnay A Tale of Two Cities
Emily David Copperfield
Charles Mell David Copperfield
Emma Haredale    Barnaby Rudge
Charlie Hexam Our Mutual Friend
Emma Micawber David Copperfield
Chevy Slyme Martin Chuzzlewit
Emma Peecher   Our Mutual Friend
Christopher Casby Little Dorrit
Estella Great Expectations
Clarence Barnacle Little Dorrit
Esther Summerson Bleak House
Clarriker Great Expectations
Fan A Christmas Carol
Compeyson Great Expectations
Fanny Cleaver Our Mutual Friend
Creakle David Copperfield
Fanny Dombey Dombey and Son
Daniel Doyce Little Dorrit
Fanny Dorrit Little Dorrit
Daniel Peggotty   David Copperfield
Fanny Squeers Nicholas Nickelby
Daniel Quilp Old Curiosity Shop
Flopson     Great Expectations
David Copperfield David Copperfield
Flora Finching Little Dorrit
David Crimple "Crimp" Martin Chuzzlewit
Florence Dombey Dombey and Son
Decimus Tite Barnacle Little Dorrit
Good Mrs. Brown Dombey and Son
Dick Datchery Mystery of Edwin Drood
Grace Jeddler the Battle of Life
Dick Swiveller Old Curiosity Shop
Harriet Carker Dombey and Son
Dolge Orlick Great Expectations
Helena Landless Mystery of Edwin Drood
Dr. Slammer Pickwick Papers
Henrietta Boffin Our Mutual Friend
Duff Oliver Twist
Henrietta Petowker Nicholas Nickelby
Durdles Mystery of Edwin Drood
Honoria Dedlock, Lady Bleak House
Ebenezer Scrooge A Christmas Carol
Hortense Bleak House
Edmund Longford the Haunted Man
Isabella Wardle     Pickwick Papers
Edmund Sparkler Little Dorrit
Jane Murdstone David Copperfield
Edward "Tip" Dorrit Little Dorrit J
anet David Copperfield
Edward Chester   Barnaby Rudge
Jemima Bilberry Little Dorrit
Edward Leeford (Monks) Oliver Twist
Jenny Bleak House
Edward Murdstone David Copperfield
Jenny Wren Our Mutual Friend
Edward Plummer Cricket on the Hearth
Julia Mills David Copperfield
Edwin "Ned" Cheeryble   Nicholas Nickelby
Kate Nickelby Nicholas Nickelby
Edwin Drood Mystery of Edwin Drood
Lavinia Spenlow David Copperfield
Elijah Pogram Martin Chuzzlewit
Lavinia Wilfer Our Mutual Friend
Ephraim Flintwinch Little Dorrit
Lillian the Chimes
Ernest Defarge   A Tale of Two Cities
Liz Bleak House
Eugene Wrayburn Our Mutual Friend
Lizzie Hexam Our Mutual Friend
Fagin Oliver Twist
Louisa Chick Dombey and Son
Fezziwig A Christmas Carol
Louisa Gradgrind Hard Times
Filer   The Chimes
Lucie Manette a Tale of Two Cities
Fledgeby "Fascination"  Our Mutual Friend
Lucretia Tox Dombey and Son
Francis Spenlow David Copperfield
Madeline Bray Nicholas Nickelby
Frank Cheeryble Nicholas Nickelby
Maggy Little Dorrit
Frank Milvey, Reverend Our Mutual Friend
Malta Bagnet Bleak House
Fred A Christmas Carol
Marchioness, the Old Curiosity Shop
Fred Trent Old Curiosity Shop
Marion Jeddler    the Battle of Life
Frederick Verisopht, Lord Nicholas Nickelby
Martha Bardell   Pickwick Papers
Gabriel Varden Barnaby Rudge
Martha Endell David Copperfield
Gaffer Hexam Our Mutual Friend
Martha Jeddler the Battle of Life
Gashford Barnaby Rudge
Martha Varden Barnaby Rudge
Gaspard A Tale of Two Cities
Mary Anne David Copperfield
General Cyrus Choke Martin Chuzzlewit
Mary Graham Martin Chuzzlewit
Geoffrey Haredale Barnaby Rudge
Mary Graham Pickwick Papers
George Radfoot    Our Mutual Friend
Mary Peerybingle "Dot" Cricket on the Hearth
George Rouncewell Bleak House
Mary Rudge Barnaby Rudge
Grainger David Copperfield
Matilda Price Nicholas Nickelby
Grewgious Mystery of Edwin Drood
May Fielding Cricket on the Hearth
Gridley Bleak House
Meg (Margaret) the Chimes
Ham Peggotty David Copperfield
Mercy Pecksniff "Merry" Martin Chuzzlewit
Hamilton Veneering Our Mutual Friend
Miggs Barnaby Rudge
Hannibal Chollop Martin Chuzzlewit
Millers     Great Expectations
Harold Skimpole Bleak House
Milly Swidger the Haunted Man
Harry Maylie Oliver Twist
Miss Havisham Great Expectations
Henry Gowan Little Dorrit
Molly Great Expectations
Henry Wititterly Nicholas Nickelby
Mrs. Hominy Martin Chuzzlewit
Herbert Pocket Great Expectations
Nelly Trent Old Curiosity Shop
Hugh Barnaby Rudge
Ninetta Crummles Nicholas Nickelby
Jack Bunsby Dombey and Son
Peg Sliderskew    Nicholas Nickelby
Jack Dawkins Oliver Twist
Pet Meagles Little Dorrit
Jack Maldon David Copperfield
Pleasant Riderhood Our Mutual Friend
Jacob Marley A Christmas Carol
Polly Toodle Dombey and Son
Jaggers Great    Expectations
Rachael   Hard Times
James Carker Dombey and Son
Rachael, Mrs. Bleak House
James Harthouse Hard Times
Rosa Bleak House
James Steerforth David Copperfield
Rosa Bud Mystery of Edwin Drood
Jarvis Lorry A Tale of Two Cities
Rosa Dartle David Copperfield
Jefferson Brick Martin Chuzzlewit
Rose Maylie Oliver Twist
Jeremiah Flintwinch Little Dorrit
Ruth Pinch Martin Chuzzlewit
Jerry Cruncher A Tale of Two Cities
Sairey Gamp Martin Chuzzlewit
Jo Bleak House
Sally Brass Old Curiosity Shop
Job Trotter Pickwick Papers
Sally Tetterby the Haunted Man
Joe (the Fat Boy) Pickwick Papers
Sally, Old Oliver Twist
Joe Gargery Great Expectations
Sissy Jupe Hard Times
Joe Willet Barnaby Rudge
Sophia Tetterby the Haunted Man
John Baptist  Cavaletto   Little Dorrit
Sophie Wackles    Old Curiosity Shop
John Barsad A Tale of Two Cities
Sophronia Lammle Our Mutual Friend
John Browdie Nicholas Nickelby
Sophy Crewler David Copperfield
John Chivery Little Dorrit
Spottletoe, Mrs. Martin Chuzzlewit
John Grueby Barnaby Rudge
Susan Nipper Dombey and Son
John Harmon Our Mutual Friend
Tattycoram (Harriet Beadle) Little Dorrit
John Jarndyce Bleak House
Ticket, Mrs. Little Dorrit
John Jasper Mystery of Edwin Drood
Tilly Slowboy Cricket on the Hearth
John Peerybingle Cricket on the Hearth
Todgers, Mrs. Martin Chuzzlewit
John Podsnap Our Mutual Friend
Twinkleton, Miss Mystery of Edwin Drood
John Rokesmith   Our Mutual Friend
Vengeance, the a     Tale of Two Cities
John Wemmick Great Expectations
Volumnia Dedlock Bleak House
John Westlock Martin Chuzzlewit
Wade, Miss Little Dorrit
Johnny Tetterby the Haunted Man
Whimple, Mrs. Great Expectations
Jonas Chuzzlewit Martin Chuzzlewit
Jorkins David Copperfield
Josiah Bounderby Hard Times
Julius Handford  Our Mutual Friend
Kenge Bleak House
Kit Nubbles Old Curiosity Shop
Krook Bleak House
Langdale Barnaby Rudge
Lewsome Martin Chuzzlewit
Littimer     David Copperfield
Lowten   Pickwick Papers
Luke Honeythunder Mystery of Edwin Drood
Mark Tapley Martin Chuzzlewit
Markham David Copperfield
Marquis de St Evremonde A Tale of Two Cities
Martin Chuzzlewit Martin Chuzzlewit
Matthew Pocket Great Expectations
M'Choakumchild Hard Times
Mealy Potatoes David Copperfield
Michael Warden the Battle of Life
Mick Walker David Copperfield
Montigue Tigg Martin Chuzzlewit
Mortimer Lightwood Our Mutual Friend
Mould Martin Chuzzlewit
Nadgett Martin Chuzzlewit
Nathaniel Winkle Pickwick Papers
Native, the Dombey and Son
Neckett Bleak House
Ned Dennis Barnaby Rudge
Nemo Bleak House
Neville Landless Mystery of Edwin Drood
Newman Noggs Nicholas Nickelby
Nicholas Nickelby Nicholas Nickelby
Noah Claypole Oliver Twist
Noddy Boffin Our Mutual Friend
Old Bill Barley Great Expectations
Oliver Twist Oliver Twist
Pancks Little Dorrit
Paul Dombey Dombey and Son
Paul Sweedlepipe Martin Chuzzlewit
Perch Dombey and Son
Perker Pickwick Papers
Peter Magnus Pickwick Papers
Phil Parkes Barnaby Rudge
Phil Squod Bleak House
Philip Swidger the Haunted Man
Pip (Pirrip, Phillip) Great Expectations
Prince Turveydrop Bleak House
Pumblechook Great Expectations
Quebec Bagnet Bleak House
Quinion David Copperfield
Ralph Nickelby Nicholas Nickelby
Redlaw the Haunted Man
Reginald Wilfer Our Mutual Friend
Reuben Haredale Barnaby Rudge
Riah Our Mutual Friend
Richard the Chimes
Richard Carstone Bleak House
Rigaud (Blandois, Lagnier) Little Dorrit
Rob the Grinder Dombey and Son
Roger Cly A Tale of Two Cities
Rogue Riderhood Our Mutual Friend
Sampson Brass Old Curiosity Shop
Samuel Pickwick Pickwick Papers
Samuel Weller Pickwick Papers
Serjeant Buzfuz Pickwick Papers
Seth Pecksniff Martin Chuzzlewit
Silas Wegg Our Mutual Friend
Simon Tappertit Barnaby Rudge
Sir John Fielding Barnaby Rudge
Sir Mulberry Hawk Nicholas Nickelby
Sleary Hard Times
Sloppy Our Mutual Friend
Slurk, Mr. Pickwick Papers
Smalweed Bleak House
Smike Nicholas Nickelby
Snagsby Bleak House
Snawley Nicholas Nickelby
Snitchey and Craggs the Battle of Life
Soloman Daisy Barnaby Rudge
Soloman Gills Dombey and Son
Soloman Pross A Tale of Two Cities
Solomon Pell Pickwick Papers
Stagg Barnaby Rudge
Startop Great Expectations
Stephen Blackpool Hard Times
Stiggins, Reverend Pickwick Papers
Stryver A Tale of Two Cities
Sydney Carton A Tale of Two Cities
Tackleton Cricket on the Hearth
Tartar Mystery of Edwin Drood
Theophile Gabelle A Tale of Two Cities
Thomas Gradgrind Hard Times
Thomas Lenville Nicholas Nickelby
Thomas Plornish Little Dorrit
Thomas Sapsea Mystery of Edwin Drood
Tim Linkinwater Nicholas Nickelby
Tiny Tim Cratchit A Christmas Carol
Tite Barnacle Little Dorrit
Toby "Trotty" Veck the Chimes
Tom Cobb Barnaby Rudge
Tom Pinch Martin Chuzzlewit
Tom Scott Old Curiosity Shop
Tommy Traddles David Copperfield
Tony (Weevle) Jobling Bleak House
Tony Weller Pickwick Papers
Toots Dombey and Son
Trabb Great Expectations
Tracy Tupman Pickwick Papers
Tulkinghorn Bleak House
Tungay David Copperfield
Uriah Heep David Copperfield
Vholes Bleak House
Vincent Crummles Nicholas Nickelby
Wackford Squeers Nicholas Nickelby
Walter Bray Nicholas Nickelby
Walter Gay Dombey and Son
Wardle Pickwick Papers
Watt Bleak House
Wilkins Micawber David Copperfield
Will Fern the Chimes
William Dorrit Little Dorrit
William Guppy Bleak House
William Swidger the Haunted Man
Woolwich Bagnet Bleak House
Wopsle Great Expectations
Zephaniah Scadde Martin Chuzzlewit

1843 Lottery of Life

Bob Cratchit, the hard working and impoverished Clerk of Ebeneezer Scrooge was justified in his serious consideration of leaving the employ of the miser and taking up another position.

This was not just on the grounds of having to work prolonged hours at a harshly furnished work station and, in the colder months of the year in poor daylight and hearth warmth but with the prospect of his labours and value being acknowledged by the prospect of an additional 2 shillings per week.

According to the 1843 novella, A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens, Bob Cratchit was on a wage of 15 shillings a week.

This was not actually that far adrift from the national average for an equivalent position as a General Office or Solicitors Clerk. It will have been a struggle on that income with a family consisting of a wife and six children but not an unusual situation to be in for the mid Victorian Era where a large family unit was inevitable what with levels of child mortality and a low life expectancy generally in a tough economic and rather unhealthy environment.

Charles Dickens conveys the fate of the weak and sickly in the Cratchit household in that we are only told the names of four of the offspring with Martha, Peter and Belinda being the siblings of the invalided but nevertheless cheery Tiny Tim. It is as if 30% of the younger members of the family are, in effect, dispensable.

In the recent BBC TV adaptation of A Christmas Carol there is a grounding of the characters and an explanation of their behaviour and motivations in quite a unique way although only really filling in between the lines of Dickens' story and morality tale.

Not to be a spoiler but in the final redemption of Scrooge he visits the Cratchit house and offers, not as in the big screen movie versions a large fowl for the Christmas Meal, medical salvation for Tiny Tim and all the Best Compliments of the Season but rather a lump sum of £500 for immediate payment into the Cratchit account, if indeed they possessed such a thing.

Earlier in the dialogue Scrooge brags about his personal fortune between £600 and £700 in his strongbox in his mansion and so the offer is very much borne out of guilt and self preservation after his epiphany at the hands of successive Spirits over the previous hours.

That sum, whilst perceived to be fairly paltry when compared to today's lifestyle requirements did, in 1843, represent a princely sum- in fact in current pounds sterling this amounted to around £45,000.

To the Cratchit family this windfall was the equivalent of a Lottery win with potential to elevate them from Precariat  into a relatively secure existence. Their present residence will have been rented as outright or owner occupation was unheard of beyond the privileged and upper classes of the Victorian age. It is possible that they had a few rooms in a house shared with a number of other family units and relying upon use of common amenities for cooking, sanitation and laundry. In their new found affluence the Cratchit's could think about renting a whole place for themselves.

The capital sum could give them around 17 years of rental payments towards a typical middle class property with better facilities and a healthier lifestyle. That would certainly see Bob and his missus through to their latter years by which time the four named and two anonymous children will have reached adulthood and employable age to contribute to the running costs of the house as per the expectations of the era.

Presumably Bob would still take up the new job and the uplift to 17 shillings a week would cover standard outgoings such as a daily loaf of bread at around 8 old pence and money could be budgeted for the Christmas Fare of Goose at 7 shillings, Onion, sage and oranges for stuffing at 3 shillings and a traditional plum pudding dessert at 5 shillings for the ingredients.

The £500 may have been a bit of poetic licence by the writers of the recent adaptation but works well in putting the social and economic situation into context and how much of the Victorian population teetered on the edge of survival on a daily basis.

The Twiglet Zone

What to do between Christmas and New Year?

It is a strange period of days. Other languages have some very evocative names for it. In the UK there has been a lobbying for "twixtmass" but my favourite is "The Twiglet Zone".

It can be a bit of a lost opportunity when there may be some free time from work and routines for most of us but little motivation, inclination or justification to make anything of it.

It is a time for those with families to be together which may not be possible during the rest of a hectic year. Relatives can be visited or hosted which keeps the communication, reminiscence and inheritance channels well and truly open, particularly where there is no regular connection through Skype and other third party portals.

It can be a sad period of reflection for the loved ones of those who have departed during the year or just with remembrances of past Christmasses. It can be a time of getting away from it all, an escape to a rented cottage or ski chalet. For those left at home long walks are planned but a combination of the invariably damp and dreary, rather than bright and crisp seasonal weather and jam packed semi-interesting TV schedules makes for easy persuasion to stay indoors.

A trip out to the Boxing Day and New Year Sales sounds an option but then you recall the misery of the previous 3 month cynically Full Price run-up , being  herded through the shopping centre, jostled in the checkouts and with a feeling of being ill at ease at an involuntary participation in a kettling manoeuvre in the multi storey car park.

It is quite normal therefore to find yourself in this seasonal doldrum sprawled out on the living room floor, surrounded by ravaged boxes of assorted chocolates , indecipherable instruction booklets for electronic toys, half opened and sniffed toiletries, a stack of weighty but trivial books, amongst a crime-scene type body outline consisting of puff pastry flakes and feeling that irresistible compulsion to go and have another root around in the fridge. There is still the soft underbelly of the roast bird to have a go at.

I have seen a Poll Result for this year where only 59% of the UK population expressed an intention to participate in any celebratory plans to see in the New Year. It can, truth be told, be a bit of a drag watching the clock from, say, 10pm to Midnight, and relying on a loose arrangement of musical guests on the TV to evoke what should be a more magical moment. Even the prospect of an early night to bed is less of an attraction in anticipation of the outbreak of the end of year barrage  as Big Ben strikes its last of, in 2019, the first decade of the 21st Century.

Religious significance and the relentless passing of time apart you would expect there to be a commercial and political campaign to separate these two key dates in the calendar. Imagine, keeping the Birth of Jesus where it is but moving the celebration of New Year to the middle of the year. They are already two separate events in our perception and understanding and indeed in our ever increasing consumerism at this time of year many may regard it more of a case of  "buy one get one free", which can only cheapen, one or the other depending on your conscience and persuasions.

The motor industry successfully implemented a similar strategy by creating two new car registration periods per year rather than just the longstanding mass release of brand, spanking new vehicles every 1st August.

In moving New Year to the summer months there are many, many advantages that I can see. It may not guarantee good weather, in fact it may be more likely to be bright and crisp than damp and dreary, but an outdoor celebration, wearing shorts and a 'T' shirt,  barbecue smoking and with Chinese Lanterns drifting up into a warm, dusk sky sounds idyllic compared to the archetypal Northern European event we are acclimatised and resigned to.

I can see tremendous benefits to the economy in a July New Years with spiked sales figures for the food industry, a surge in numbers of packs of beer (if indeed at all possible), small chiller fridges, outdoor gazebo's and lighting, deckchairs and patio sets, children's paddling pools and trampolines, gardening implements and plants, conservatories and portable coconut matting covered cocktail bars.

Where before, as a nation we have envied the Southern Europeans and Australians and their natural assimilation with the great outdoors we can now fully participate, perhaps hesitantly and reserved at first but then claiming it as our own lifestyle invention. We did it with Pizza and Tikka Masalla didn't we.

Of course, the powerful lobbying interests for Travel Companies and Airlines will object strongly on the grounds of loss of revenue to the Government as a New Year in July reinforces the attraction of a stay-cation rather than an overseas vacation. Turkey farmers will have to completely rethink their strategy to ensure the availability of birds in the summer or alternatively produce barbecue friendly turkey meat products. Do sprouts readily switch from a winter crop to a summer harvest? If not, this would not in my opinion constitute a great loss. There may, on the downside, be an increase in civil unrest and anti-social behaviour from over-indulgence in a warmer average temperature and an additional strain placed on neighbourly relations as a consequence of the British character flaw of one-upmanship in all things in plain sight in gardens and on driveways.

Having considered all aspects I can see the beginnings of a populist movement towards a summer New Year. It will take better minds and intellects to weigh up all of the pro's and con's of such a radical proposition and of course, to consider the viewpoints of minority groups such as Scottish revellers, Jules Holland, Gymnasiums, Personal Fitness Trainers and Druids.

This line of thought could be a Resolution to take forward . Let's get busy in the planning of this revolutionary idea, no time like the present to lay down the foundation for a new order new year. Now, where did I leave that gift of a year planner complete with detachable ball point pen?  I'll just see if it is under this pile of magazines . Ooh, wait a minute, The Radio Times promises a great day of continuous justifiable viewing and when it gets dark at 3.30pm I am perfectly entitled to put on my Christmas pyjamas and pull up the drawbridge. Perhaps, next New Year would be better to ponder such things after all.

James Bond at Christmas

Back by popular request, I wrote this a few years ago now but in the fictional World of Bond nothing goes out of date.It revolves around a local hotel which has been advertising, amongst its seasonal events what they call a 'James Bond Christmas'. 

Here goes........

Commander Bond lay under the duvet cover. The distant sounding of church bells reminded him that this was indeed Christmas Day.

He had got in at about 9.30pm from yet another of  'M's festive gatherings. It had not been that exciting. He had returned alone. Moneypenny had gone home even earlier, after all she was an old lady and no fun. M's quiche had made him a bit bilious and the dry martini's had not been enough to quell the acidity in his stomach.

He let one go under the heavy winter tog rated bedding and casually wafted it away into the gradually increasing natural light of his flat.

What to do for Christmas Day?

He swung a leg out, feeling for the thick pile of the carpet. Pulling his heavy built form upright he found that his Onesie had ridden up during the night with some constriction of his lower abdomen. It was a legitimate reason for a prolonged scratch and re-arrangement of his undercarriage.

The flat was cold and he cursed not mastering the central heating thermostat in the twenty years and more of his occupation. He had no time for manuals. 'Q' had been kind enough to show him the settings for instantaneous hot water and radiator heating. They had been very similar to the afterburner controls on Little Nelly. A nasty and expensive quarterly gas bill had been the consequence of a degree of confusion on one occasion.

A light, healthy breakfast appealed to him. Those long sessions at the Casino in recent years had ruined his physique .He had contracted and only just recovered from a nasty virus from , he suspected, the sampled contents of a small bowl of mint imperials at the coat-check counter near the toilets in Monte Carlo.

He was disappointed by the contents of the fridge. The orange juice was 'with bits' which he had bought from M&S without checking. He infinitely preferred smooth. No yoghurt, no bran or porridge oats so he settled for a lump of cheese and half a packet of cream crackers. The Onesie successfully captured any fragments of the flaky Lancashire and biscuit crumbs in its thick, luxurious velour giving the faux tiger-skin print the appearance of a dandruff outbreak.

Living the life of a bachelor, out of the normal hours of his regimented and disciplined professional assassin duties, the living room was a tip.

He stumbled over a collection of take-away cartons,pizza boxes and discarded clothing-disappointingly all his. A pint glass full of the discarded shells of pistachio's fell and rolled across the parquet floor gradually decanting its contents. A few well place martial arts kicks cleared the rest of the debris under the DFS corner suite and Ikea wall unit. The DVD's would have to be sorted later from an unruly pile. The movie of 27 Dresses at the top caused him to pause and recall how he had enjoyed the plot and sentiment of such a well structured and acted rom-com.

As Commander Bond dragged the Dyson bagless around the room he made an instinctive check for any signs of intrusion whilst he had been at M's reception. Trip wires and carefully adhered strands of his chest hair were still in situ. It was disappointing not to be the subject of any nefarious intentions during the holiday season. How was he expected to keep his hand in?

The number of Christmas cards on the mantelpiece was well down this year. This was, he mused a combination of how convincing his manufactured death had been earlier in the year resulting in many deletions by Facebook friends and the trend amongst fellow assasins to have to kill each other.

The unsigned, oversized padded card depicting an alpine scene was definitely from that rascal Blofeld. He had a decent sense of humour under that serious visage of world dominating villainy.

The morning passed quickly. Feeling peckish after his exertions of a man's comprehension of cleaning and hoovering he chipped away at the slab of ice which had consumed his freezer compartment and recovered a couple of ready-meals which would do nicely for his Christmas dinner. The combination of Tikka Massala and Hot Pot was novel but palatable. Dessert was a bit more of a challenge but the Angel Delight was soon whisked into a firm peak that briefly and erotically reminded him of past conquests.

The controllers at the 'Licenced to Kill' desk deep in the MI5 building received a message from Bond on the restricted scrambled channel and they duly sent him the TV listings for the rest of the day . He did not expect HM The Queen to expand on their skydiving antics into the Olympic Stadium in her traditional address to the nation. He knew she had enjoyed it on an altogether private level by her whoops and screams and covert and playful cupping of his groin on the descent through the late July sky over London.

Next he knew, it was dark outside the flat. He had dozed off, sprawled across the settee, and with a dribble of spittle running down his chin, a faint essence of butterscotch discernible. Annoyingly he had missed the blockbuster film and no-one had availed him of the operational details of the i-player.

The Strictly Christmas offering thrilled him for the rest of the evening. He would never be asked to participate on the dance floor because of the intricacies of his professional lifestyle.This was a major regret.  His enjoyment of Downton Abbey had been tempered by his instinctive identification of access and escape routes in the stately home and the best place to set off a diversionary explosion for maximum mayhem amongst the sinister looking below stairs staff, all ex KGB without doubt. Lady Mary was definitely a deep cover operative, for sure.

The latter part of the day was now dragging. The invitations to a 'Christmas At Home' from a selection of gangsters, sociopaths and the criminally insane remained on his antique escritoire, opened but not responded to. A threat of menace and a long monologue about blah, blah, ransom, blah, blah, extortion, blah, blah, gold reserves and the prospect of a scorching of nether regions by a high powered laser was now of some attraction when in the past it had just been part and parcel of the job.

It was a pity that he had not forged better links with those he had collaborated with on his missions. That Felix Leiter was a personable chap but obviously had problems of self image based on his frequently radical changes in appearance and skin colour.

He poured himself a Baileys over ice (chipped flakes from the freezer compartment) and gorged himself to the point of being nauseous on the After Eights, a raffle prize at 'M's with the proceeds going to support the families of disavowed agents.

James Bond contemplated starting a diplomatic incident to alleviate his boredom. A convincing non-nuclear conflagration of the Home Counties was well within his capabilities from just the contents of his lock up garage in Twickenham.  His life story, auctioned to the tabloids would keep him in the style in which the public perceived him to exist.

In reality and out of abject loneliness he found that crying himself to sleep on Christmas night was a form of light and therapeutic relief. 

As always, he firmly believed that it would be so much better next year..........

Going Down- The Department Store

The are a number of adages in the English Language.

We in this country have had a few hammered home in the last few weeks and months such as "You Get the Government You Deserve" but there are many more enshrined in our culture.

Some have derived from the Bible although I expect that I will be pulled up on my chronic lack of theological knowledge by quoting a few more of them such as "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you" and"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy".

I have adapted one that holds some relevance in today's consumer world and that is "You get what you shop for".

Let me explain. Up until recent years we, as the general public, have just got up off our backsides and gone out to the High Street or out of town Retail Park to do our shopping. Yes, it was a pleasurable experience, on the whole, even allowing for traffic congestion, parking problems and cost, overcrowding and the inevitable queue-ing.

These latter negative factors will have been uppermost in the mindset of those clever marketing moguls in promoting the concept of On Line shopping to the masses. Those and cheaper prices, instant delivery to your door and a seemingly endless catalogue of goods and goodies and you can appreciate that many of us, me included, have deserted our traditional High Streets with the inevitable outcome of failed and boarded up shops and premises.

I was still shocked however, to be confronted with the almost deserted scene in the centre of my home City and worst of all the complete absence of that shopping magnet of a Department Store, of which there used to be three, British Home Stores, Marks and Spencer and Hammonds. Closures have not always been a modern phenomena and in the late 1970's what was described as the Harrods of The North, Carmichaels closed its doors after many years of service to the people of Hull.

They were splendid places, commercialised palaces - welcoming and with a uniqueness of offering everything under their one roofs, the USP being a One Stop Shop.

A visit in the weeks approaching Christmas was red lined on the calendar as amongst their ranges on their multi-storey layout it was a dead-cert that you could find a suitable gift for even the most difficult to shop for relative or friend. Notwithstanding their attractions at Christmas a Department Store will have played a major role in our modern existence. That purchase of first pair of shoes, starting school wear, first work suit and other acquisitions at key life stages will likely have been at a Department Store. In our family it was the place where we spent our gift tokens and got told off for messing about on the escalators.

Hammonds of Hull

They were always themed for the seasons  of the year but in December always conveyed an extra special atmosphere for the shopper.

A typical Ground Floor layout was dedicated to Perfumery and Cosmetics with all of the famous brands represented on small kiosks with their own sales assistants hovering around to squirt samples on wrists to offer a consultancy on skin tones and shades.


The Menswear Department was to be found at the back of the ground floor to distract the menfolk whilst their better halves sought to make a pampering purchase. The Lingerie section was always extensive and rather intimidating for male shoppers even if a purchase was intended.

M and S, Hull

Upper floors provided all manner of household goods from kitchenware to beds, soft furnishings and interior decor. It was entirely possible to fit out a house from top to bottom from within those walls and indeed many a couple starting out in life made use of the Wedding Present Service that larger stores offered.

The Toy Department was always my favourite when I was a youngster with imaginative displays of the latest Christmas Must-Haves  as well as a good stock of Lego, Meccano, Airfix, Subbuteo and Palitoy brands.

Many an hour could be lost in such surroundings although a drink or a snack meal in the cafe/restaurant was always part of the Christmas Tradition.

The younger children  in the family could also visit Santa's Grotto for which there was always a bit of a waiting time, made more excruciating by the excitement of meeting and talking with the Father Christmas.

Former Co-Op and BHS, Hull

These memories are very strong in most of us at this time of the year and my wife and myself could not help feeling sad at the sight of the vacated and abandoned former Department Stores in our own City Centre.

Quite a few shoppers just seemed to be wandering about aimlessly as though unable to find anywhere to fill that gap in their own Christmas shopping tradition.

On the plus side, I got home to find a delivery from an order that I had placed on line just a matter of hours before. I plead guilty to contributing to the demise of the Department Stores on the High Street.

Harrods of The North 

George Bailey Lifestyle Guru

This is a favourite of mine from a few years ago now.

It has happened. It was snowing hard in Bedford Falls. Mary Bailey had rallied round the good townsfolk and they came up with the required funds to make up the unfortunate deficit at the Savings and Loans.

George Bailey looked at his small ginger hair daughter and thanked Clarence, his guardian angel to the sound of a bell tinkling on the tree.

I cried. I always cry.

The spirit and meaning of Christmas has at last arrived for me late in the evening just a few days before Christmas Eve. Only four more sleeps to go, as they say. It takes something special to break through the stupefying and numbing influences on the mind and body that are an inevitable consequence of modern working life and of a commercial hijacking of the true meaning of the celebration of Christmas.

Supermarket aisles stocked from October with selection boxes, tins of  biscuits, bombay mix, twiglets, chocolate reindeer, santa's and snowmen. Canned music from every angle.

The unseasonably warm autumn weather caused me to seek out a throw-away-all-in-one barbecue for a balmy weekend afternoon. I could not get one but no problem at all to get 3 for the price of 2 festively packaged cheesy nibbles. I have not been coasting through the build up to the celebratory feast. I have been trying sincerely to infuse myself with the spirit of Christmas.

There has been a lot to do around the house to prepare for the return of the full compliment of the family. Painting, decorating, tidying, ruthless de-junking, in and out of the garage, down to the Civic Amenity site where a lot of men dressed as Santa seem to work.

There are other triggers to activate the meaning of Christmas.

I witnessed the lighting of the first candle on the Advent Crown at church but as yet I have not sung any Carols which is a bit disappointing. Apparently I am a bit of an Anglo Catholic and we adhere strictly to the Advent hymns until Christmas Eve. We will be going down the road from the new house to the Christmas morning service if the building survives the onslaught of revellers the night before. The church is slap bang in the middle of the party circuit and does get a bit of a hammering from the hammered.

Our  tree, carefully selected on the basis of a good strong Nordic profile is starting to exude the natural pine smell when prompted.. Boxes and bags of decorations and trimmings have been brought down from the loft. The fridge and freezer cleared and cleaned. It is surprising how much room a turkey in a carrier bag takes up,.

The children, well young adults, are now all present and renewing their family ties and bonds that have been stretched by distance and life pressures. It is great to hear them talking, laughing and sharing their individual experiences for which we are all better off.

We are just about prepared.

Above all we are thankful and very mindful of the position we are in at a time of on-going child poverty, persistent austerity and social and economic uncertainty on our doorstep.

It is a time for family, friendship and taking stock of what we have of true value and worth in our lives.

Drawn and Quartered

I suppose that the building does resemble a Railway Signal Box.

That is more by happy coincidence than design as within its broadly square footprint and two floors it actually comprises four houses.

If you have some difficulty imagining the format then try to visualise how the original house builders, Barratt Homes described it back in the early 1980's as "Quarter Detached".

I have always considered this to be a bit, well quite a lot, of poetic licence as the use of the term Detached suggests something quite exclusive but then it is dragged back, screaming into reality in the realisation that it is in fact just a segment of the whole.

For all of its false pretensions and illusions of grandeur the layout does actually function well as a compact home. There is a small open porch, supported on a metal stanchion and adjacent a compartment for a refuse bin or in this particular case, a tall American style fridge freezer. The front door opens out into the "L" shaped living and dining area although the stubby offshoot is largely taken up by a wrought iron framed, open tread staircase. This does give just amount enough space for a dining table and two chairs beneath. The rest of the ground floor is a galley kitchen.

Although cramped there is quite an advantage in being able to carry out food preparation and cooking, plating up, washing up and putting the pots away whilst just swivelling round in the same spot on the floor. The construction of the feature stairs makes them very flexible and springy but a conventional tread and riser arrangement would just not fit. 

Upstairs is a double sized bedroom and a bathroom.

As a home for a singleton or young couple it meets all of the basic and fundamental requirements. Energy efficiency is good and running costs will be below average. In the early 1980's, before the standard expectations of the house buying public for en suites, utility rooms and a cloakroom with toilet even in the tiniest of properties the Quarter Detached was considered quite a pioneering innovation.

As for my reference to a look-a-likey Signal Box?

Well, consulting the archive maps (again) for the location indicated that from the mid 19th Century and up until the 1960's the site was under the black spidery map legend of railway sidings.

The status of the City Of Hull as a Port was emphasised by the sheer volume of rail freight going from and to the expansive Docks, either for export to Europe and the rest of the World or as imports many of which were loaded onto the trains before being taken 'cross country to Liverpool and other West Coast Ports for the onward journey to the Americas and Far East.

The goods in transit could be bulk raw materials, timber, cattle and manufactured products but a striking fact is that more than 2 million immigrants also passed through Hull in the 19th and early to mid 20th Century. Some of the travellers escaping persecution and poverty in Central and Eastern Europe stayed put in Hull, including ancestors of my wife who hailed, separately from Germany and Sweden.

If it were possible to go back in time with our quarter detached house the outlook in the 1880's would have been clouded in coal dust and combusted steam from the incessant procession of railway engines as well as a riot of noise from metal wheels on rail joints, the clang of couplings and creak of wooden carriages and box-cars.

In fact such would be the persistence of disturbance and airborne contamination that residing anywhere near what the Old Map refers to as the "Locomotive Junction" would be pretty well unbearable not to mention nerve jangling and very unhealthy.

The scene today is so far from that historic era.

The house is in a quiet cul de sac surrounded by neat private gardens and well maintained properties. There are absolutely no features remaining that would indicate the past land use although I did write a while ago on the great story of a homeowner just around the corner from this place who, whilst digging out footings for an extension, uncovered a Train Turntable.

The Santa Clause

Its that time of year again when I can shamelessly go back over past blogs about the Festive Season and so I apologise to those to whom the writing seems very familiar. If a first time reader then please just enjoy the sentiments and traditions that I, like many, enjoy so much.


Most fancy dress costumes come with no restrictions on behaviour, modesty or historical authenticity but then again that is the purpose of buying or hiring an outfit, it is a form of escapism, exhibitionism and a good excuse for some to act shamefully, recklessly and lewdly.

There is however one exception to the norm.

The decision to wear a Father Christmas suit automatically enrols you into the ethical code of that particular office.

I have briefly experienced the love, affection and respect embodied by the traditional Red Suit over the Festive Season and I have found it humbling and inspirational.

Although I have only worn the traditional robes a few times, on each occasion I have sensed that my very amateur and comic-book impersonation has filled a need in those I have crossed paths with, be they family, friends or just strangers in the street.

As for the historical background, well, the bright colours are widely thought to derive from the original Saint Nicholas, who was the Bishop of Myra, now in Turkey, in the 4th Century. Red and white were the hues of traditional bishop robes, although some historians argue that he originally dressed in different colours.

Saint Nick was famous for his kindness to children and generosity to the poor. After he died his legend grew and he is still remembered in some countries on 6th December.

In medieval England and for centuries afterwards, the figure of Father Christmas represented the spirit of benevolence and good cheer. In the 19th Century Dutch emigrants took their story of a legendary gift-bringer called Sinterklaas to America, where he eventually became known as Santa Claus.

Whilst the names and legends may differ, there has been little variation in the red and white outfits worn. However, over time the bishop cloak and mitre were replaced by the fur-trimmed suit. There are records of Santa wearing various coloured costumes, but red was by far the most popular and became known as the quintessential Father Christmas outfit.

Evidently then, Father Christmas is an evolutionary creation, influenced by folklore, legend and religion . He did not spring to life at a certain time, fully formed and wearing a red and white suit. It wasn't really until the late 19th Century that the image now recognised across the world became set.

In recent history the red and white suit has been fixed and standardised by certain publishing events and advertising campaigns. Between 1863 and 1886, Harper's Weekly magazine ran a series of engravings by Thomas Nast. He developed an image of Santa very close to the modern-day one. From these engravings the concept of Santa's workshop and the idea of writing letters to him also developed. There is the strong association with the modern representation of Father Christmas with the Coca-Cola Corporation whose  involvement began in in the early 1930's when the Swedish artist Haddon Sundblom started drawing ads for Coke featuring a fat Santa in a red coat trimmed with fur and secured with a large belt.

Whatever the source, it is through the benevolent figure of Father Christmas that children absorb the traditions of the season and then, in their later adult lives, they perpetuate the story for their own children or young relatives and friends.

I have seen first hand, in taking on the responsibility of wearing my shop bought suit,  the total acceptance of Father Christmas in situations of modern life where otherwise there would be no human contact, conversation or empathy.

On a stormy weather accompanied  short walk from my car (oops, VW Sleigh) to deliver family presents on Christmas Eve I was stopped on the pavement by a lady who took great obvious joy from handing back my fur trimmed hat that hat blown off in the prevailing gale. Passing motorists beeped their horns and revellers at a pub shouted out greetings. In the car park of my local Tesco I was asked to pose for a photograph by a young woman who was both shocked and thrilled to glimpse Santa. The children of a family friend, taking in their first ever Christmas in England shrieked in unison when my pale parody of Santa Claus called on them to hand over presents just hours before the real man was due to call.

On Boxing Day I was enlisted  to spring a surprise on family spending the holidays in the dramatic surroundings of Scarborough on the North Sea Coast. On another short walk from car to the hotel I was inundated with requests for a wave, a message or a picture. I received, by default, complete licence to wander around the splendid premises of the hotel, such is the total acceptance of Father Christmas.

The warm feeling inside me, discounting the extremely high temperatures generated by the plush velvety suit over my day clothes, was a privilege to behold.

It may sound a bit weird but I have actually added to the suit in the past year. Apparently there is a steady trade in faux fur trimmed Santa Boots, or at least I think that he is the main reason for them being manufactured.