BC:AD (U.A. Fanthorpe)

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future's
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

Introduction from Delia Smith's Christmas (Delia Smith)

If there's one person in the world who probably needs this book more than anyone else, it's me.  For years my own Christmas preparations have been, to say the least, fragmented and fraught: recipes here, notes there, and fading memories of what I might have done last year if only I could be sure!  What I needed, it seemed to me, was a sort of personal Christmas organiser, something I could reach for in October and keep by me as a guide all the way through to the point where the last of the Christmas leftovers have been dealt with.

Then I began to think: if that's what I need, how many other people might need the same?  It would be nice of course to be able to say at this point that the contents of this book can zip you through all that Christmas catering without a worry or a care.  Unfortunately that is not the case, because unless you are superhuman, believe me, there will still be some hectic days ahead of you.  But what I have set out to do here is to be a sort of friend in the background, providing practical information, offering new and different recipes (as well as the more traditional ones), and if not entirely removing the pressure of Christmas cooking then going some way to ensuring its success.

Christmas has its critics and, if we were honest, I'm sure each one of us has, at some time, wished we could quietly quit the planet and come back when it was over.  On the other hand, at what other time of the year can we turn our minds to the sheer joy of feasting?  The sharing of fine food and wines with family and friends is a deeply ingrained human (as well as religious) activity, without which our lives would surely be diminished.

As a veteran of many a Christmas campaign, my final message to you is not to worry.  You will be pressured, you will get grumpy, but it will all be worth it.  Just set your mind on that glorious moment on Christmas Day when the last of the washing-up has been done.  By then you will probably have enough food in the house to last for several days, so fill your glass, put your feet up and forget all about it for another year!

from Farmer Boy (Laura Ingalls Wilder)

 The kitchen was full of hoopskirts, balancing and swirling ...

... Almanzo tried to fill more baskets than Alice, but he couldn't.  She worked so fast that she was turning back to the bin while her hoopskirts were still whirling the other way.

from The Lord of the Rings, book 3, chapter 10, The Voice of Saruman (J.R.R. Tolkien)

'Do you indeed?' said Gandalf.  'Well, I do not.  I have now a last task to do before I go: I must pay Saruman a farewell visit.  Dangerous, and probably useless; but it must be done.  Those of you who wish may come with me - but beware!  And do not jest!  This is not the time for it.'

Bellum Civile 4.121-3 (Lucan)

sed parvo Fortuna viri contenta pavore
plena redit, solitoque magis favere secundi
et veniam meruere dei.

But Fortuna, content with having frightened her favourite a little, returned in full, and, exercising their favour even more than usual, the gods earned forgiveness.

from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, chapter thirty-eight, The Second War Begins (J.K. Rowling)

 'Yes, it was rather horrible,' said Luna conversationally.  'I still feel very sad about it sometimes.'

In Westminster Abbey (John Betjeman)

Let me take this other glove off
As the vox humana swells,
And the beauteous fields of Eden
Bask beneath the Abbey bells.
Here, where England's statesmen lie,
Listen to a lady's cry.

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans,
Spare their women for Thy Sake,
And if that is not too easy
We will pardon Thy Mistake.
But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be,
Don't let anyone bomb me.

Keep our Empire undismembered

Guide our Forces by Thy Hand,
Gallant blacks from far Jamaica,
Honduras and Togoland;
Protect them Lord in all their fights,
And, even more, protect the whites.

Think of what our Nation stands for,
Books from Boots' and country lanes,
Free speech, free passes, class distinction,
Democracy and proper drains.
Lord, put beneath Thy special care
One-eighty-nine Cadogan Square.

Although dear Lord I am a sinner,
I have done no major crime;
Now I'll come to Evening Service
Whensoever I have the time.
So, Lord, reserve for me a crown,
And do not let my shares go down.

I will labour for Thy Kingdom,
Help our lads to win the war,
Send white feathers to the cowards
Join the Women's Army Corps,
Then wash the steps around Thy Throne
In the Eternal Safety Zone.

Now I feel a little better,
What a treat to hear Thy Word,
Where the bones of leading statesmen
Have so often been interr'd.
And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait
Because I have a luncheon date.

from The Balkan Trilogy (Olivia Manning)

The difficulty of dealing with Guy, she thought, lay in the fact that he was so often right.  She and Clarence could claim that their evening had been spoilt by the presence of Dubedat.  She knew it had, in fact, been spoilt not by Guy's generosity but their own lack of it. 

-

Guy had taken her there once but the visit had depressed her.  She liked the Greek boys but was shy with them - being so constituted that she could cope with only one or two people at a time; but Guy, she saw, was having the time of his life.  He was an adolescent among adolescents, and they were all elevated by the belief that, together, they would reform the world.  She was made uneasy by their faith in certain political leaders, their condemnation of others, the atmosphere of conspiracy and her own guilty self-doubt.  She was an individual and as such had no hope of reforming the world.  The stories that inspired them - stories of injustic and misery - merely roused in her a sense of personal failure.

'But you must sacrifice your individuality,' Guy told her.  'It's nothing but egoism.  You must unite with other right-thinking, self-abnegating people - then you can achieve anything.'

The idea filled her with gloom.