If a body catch a body comin' thro' the rye...

I've just read of J.D. Salinger's death and it's brought me back to thinking about a very special group of pupils I taught a couple of years ago, the one and only time I taught 'Catcher in the Rye' for GCSE. (Generally, I teach another classic American text with a reference to Burns in the title...!)

I loved the book - partly because I'd not long returned from a trip to New York and the sights and sounds of the city seemed imprinted on its every page. I threw myself into teaching of it with a gusto I've scarcely managed since. The kids somehow 'got' the book - in a way adults often don't - and reading it with them helped me see it in a new light. The exam results at the end of it were good, but better than results to me was the fact that the book became their book, not my book or even Salinger's, because they felt they had 'discovered' it.

Six months after they'd left to go to college, a few returned from a field trip to the Big Apple and came into school to visit me. They told me they'd been on Broadway the night they dimmed the lights of for Arthur Miller. They'd stood outside the Rockerfella Centre. They'd looked at the Ceiling in Grand Central Terminus and pointed out Radio City Music Hall. And they'd taken a special detour just to see the Carousel in Central Park where they'd thought about Holden - and me!

I'm hoping to return the compliment in the not-too-distant future. If I do get there, I'll be raising a glass (or a paper Starbucks cup!) to Holden, to them and to Mr Salinger - thanks, JD!

Raise a glass and grab a haggis!

It's Burns' Night tomorrow and although you can't all come and join the fun at the annual Ceilidh in the wee village where Hamish lives (the kirk -hall's no' big enuff for all of us!), I'm sure you'll raise a glass to the bonniest of boys on his birthday ( even though he is fictional!) and yon rantin' rovin' Robin, his muse! Due to circumstances beyond my control (MY CENTRAL HEATING IS BROKEN!) my Burns' night party has been postponed until the beginning of February, but I'll be stripping the willow and knocking back the shortbread with feeling tomorrow anyway! Cheers, lads!

Words. Words. Words.

In one of my favourite novels of all time, there is a character who's wardrobe is painted with the legend 'Distrust all enterprises that require new clothes.'*

I'm beginning to think my bookshelves should be daubed with the slogan, 'Distrust all enterprises which require new books.' Or actually, old books.

Not valuable old books, you understand. Just books no one else would want but which fill a valuable gap in my knowledge. (There are NO gaps in my bookcases!) Books which are so NOT valuable, that the postage and packaging comes to so much more than they are worth!

The 'new enterprise' is firmly under wraps and I'm keeping it that way for a good long while, but the parcels are flying fast and furious between Abebooks and my house, and I'm giving myself up to the intense pleasure which is pre-writing research!! The more I find out, the more I need to know and the more excited I become as parcel after parcel falls through the letterbox! And then I sit and trawl the internet for hours and find the most amazing things to download. And the knowledge gaps get smaller and smaller. And the house gets messier and messier...

Sheer heaven!

(* This is 'A Room with a View' by E.M. Forster. Just in case you didn't recognise it!)

Snow on snow...snow on, snow!

This was my front garden on New Year's Day. Ever so pretty. It was fantastic to have a white Christmas and New Year, so good that if Irving hadn't pipped me to the post, I might even have written a song about it. It should always snow at Christmas - it is right and proper.

However, I'm posting this image to try and conteract the increasingly negative feelings I have had about snow since Monday morning! It's one thing when you're on holiday and can nip out, take a couple of atmospheric snaps with your mobile phone and then retreat back to the relative warmth and comfort of the window seat to watch it drift silently down from the grey-pink clouds while you sip a Hotel Chocolat Cinnamon Cocoa (Santa was really listening this year... ) It's quite another when you are setting off at silly o'clock, trudging up to your ears in the stuff to get to work and feeling rather 'Ernest Shackleton' about the whole thing! (Have I ever mentioned the Shackleton fascination before? No? Ah well...)

I'm also feeling miserable as the decorations went away today and the tree came down. The house looks empty and drab and in need of a good dusting and I didn't feel I'd had enough of Christmas at all! This may be because I'm fighting a series of weather-induced migranes which started on Saturday (just in time for the return to work!) or may be just because I hate January with a passion!

Still, there are lots of good things on the horizon to look forward to in 2010. Once we get this wretched snow out of the way. Now, where did I leave those huskies...?

New year, new start...

The wintery sun is setting on the last day of my Christmas holidays but there are still 3 days till 12th Night to enjoy the tree, the lights and festive hot chocolate. (Santa got the hint about the Dark Cherry Syrup...!)

This is my fireplace, bedecked with twigs from my garden and tartan baubles. I've spent a lot of time just staring into it over the past two weeks while listening to seasonal music from Christian Forshaw and Sting - very wintery and perfect, given the amount of snow that's fallen here for the past two weeks. I recommend both if you are feeling soulful.

Don't want to go back to work, of course, especially with the weather how it is. However, I promised myself a 'new beginning' and I wrote the first 2000 words of something totally original and unconnected with Grouse and Partridge... It's the first little footstep in the snow. I'm hoping it'll lead somewhere interesting. If it does, you'll be the first to know. Happy New Year!