The Story of Saint Nicholas, by Pippa Goodhart

     

 

Far away and long ago, a father and his three daughters lived in a big house with servants, fine furnishings and plentiful food.

 But the father lost his health and then his wealth.  The servants were sent away, and the three daughters had to do the cleaning and cooking and mending.  The house was sold, and so were their belongings.  They had to live in one rented room, and, for the first time in their lives, they were hungry.  The father told his daughters, “I wish you could marry strong young men who would be able to care for you better than I can, but I haven’t the money to pay for weddings.”

 The girls had to find food and fuel wherever they could for free.  The three girls went out into the winter wood.  The berries had been peck-picked away by birds, so there was no food to take.  All the girls found were some sticks on the ground, which they bound into bundles and carried home.

“At least we can have a fire and be warm,” they said.

 They lit the fire, and they hung their wet stockings to dry.  They went to bed, empty of food and almost empty of hope.

But a kind man called Nicholas had seen the girls searching the woods, and he knew of their father’s troubles.  Nicholas wanted to help, but he was shy and he was modest, so he decided to help them in secret. 

In the still darkness of mid-winter night, Nicholas came to their home, quietly carrying a present of gold.  He pushed at their door, but it was locked.  So Nicholas climbed up the house, and he tipped his present of gold into the house ……to fall spinning, spilling down the dark to chink and scatter and glint on the hearth below.  Some of the coins landed softly into the girls’ hanging stockings.   

 

In the morning the girls tried to pull on their stockings, and they found gold in the toes!  They found gold on the floor!  They wondered where in the world that gold could have come from. 

“It’s magic!” they said.

 The present of gold paid for the oldest daughter to marry into a comfortable home.    

 The following mid-winter, Nicholas came again in the night to pour a present of gold into the home where the father and two daughters lived.  So the second daughter was married. 

 

And the following mid-winter Nicholas came again with gold. 

 But this time the father wasn’t asleep.  He wanted to know how those presents of gold appeared in his daughters’ stockings each year, so he stayed awake to wait and watch. 

And he caught Nicholas! 

He thanked Nicholas for saving his daughters from hunger.   

“Shush!” said Nicholas.  “Don’t tell a soul.  This is our secret.”

 But it was such a wonderful secret that it soon burst out of the father!  At the wedding party for his youngest daughter the proud old father told the crowd how Nicholas had come and dropped mid-winter presents down the chimney for his girls. 

 

Every wedding guest took that story home with them.  They told friends and they told family … who all told their friends and families too.  The story spread out through the world and on through time.  It still lives so strongly, seventeen hundred years later, that it magically lives again every mid-winter night when Nicholas comes to me and he comes to you to put presents down our chimneys and into our stockings. 

But these days we call him Saint Nicholas, Santa Claus, just Santa, or Father Christmas. 

 

Happy mid-winter's day (and night!).

 

 

The Magic of Christmas by Garry Parsons (Guest blog)

We’re delighted to welcome this month’s guest blogger, Garry Parsons, who is an award-winning picture book illustrator. Garry discusses capturing the essence of Christmas and make-believe, from the Toenail Fairy to Father Christmas.

My five year-old son believes in Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy unequivocally 
and without question. 

from The Tooth Fairy’s Christmas by Peter Bently and Garry Parsons

He is yet to lose a tooth himself but I know when the time comes that he will take it on board wholeheartedly. I know this because aside from mentioning Father Christmas all year round he has also taken on the existence of the Toenail Fairy, invented by his parents to ease his aversion to having his toenails cut. For my part, the presence of the Toenail Fairy amounts to creeping into his room after dark with a head torch and nail clippers and hoping he doesn’t wake after the first ‘click’. The Toenail Fairy gives a Malteser per toenail, not cash, in case you were wondering, and being concerned not to stain the bed sheets with chocolate, leaves the Maltesers in a bowl next to the bed. But for my son, there is no reason to doubt that the Toenail Fairy exists.

from The Tooth Fairy’s Christmas by Peter Bently and Garry Parsons

I can’t remember the moment Father Christmas ceased to be real for me as a child, but I do remember the magic that surrounded him when I did believe. I’m sure having an elder brother accelerates Santa’s demise for younger siblings, but it’s my wish for my son that his belief in Father Christmas continues as long as possible. 

For that reason I will do what I can to gently perpetuate his presence. But what I’ve noticed as I’ve become older is that I’ve fallen back in love with the idea of magic myself. As if the mystery and magic of the world has had a resurgence inside me.

I often find myself rushing to the window to witness a rainbow or a pink sunset or an orange moon or adding up symbols I’ve seen as I walk down the street, piecing together moments or words or images which somehow start to shape some other language inside me, giving me a warm sense of wonder that some other world is operating just outside of the everyday normality that we are all so used to. As Freddie Mercury would say, “It’s a kinda magic.”

Rainbow over Reykjavik, Iceland

Each year my family spends two weeks in Iceland. My son and I were trying to recall just how many rainbows we saw on a certain day the year before and came to the agreement that whilst walking from the Hallgrímskirkja to Perlan in Reykjavik, a distance of 1.8km, we saw seven separate rainbows. My son has inherited my enthusiasm for ‘collecting’ rainbows and we like to think Iceland is the rainbow capital of the world. Without doubt, Iceland is a magical place, especially if you can travel, even a short distance, away from the main city. Its climate, strange landscapes, rapidly changing weather and dancing aurora give it a magic that gets under your skin.

Ice chunks at Jökulsárlón, glacial river lagoon, Iceland

This morning in Reykjavik we woke up to a blanket of snow outside. “Is it Christmas?” my son asked. “No,” I answered, “it’s October.” But in some ways he was right, the magic was there, just outside the window. So when I was invited to work on a Christmas picture book, I knew it was this elusive element that I wanted to attempt to capture, the Christmas spirit, the seasonal essence, the magic of Christmas, and to do so in acrylic. I had the challenge of depicting our beloved Father Christmas as a credible, caring, warm guardian of children. 

As well as wanting him to be witty and charming, I also needed him to have a little of the quality of magic about him. Consequently, Christmas in my studio stretched from September until early March.

from The Tooth Fairy’s Christmas by Peter Bently and Gary Parsons

So this year I’m excited. Not only have I had another chance to explore Iceland (and I have another son to share Iceland and Christmas with), but also my love for the notion of magic continues, be it rainbows or Santa, and somehow that convinces me that picture books really can do magic.  

Continuing the festive theme, Garry is also the illustrator of The Dinosaur That Pooped Christmas by Tom Fletcher & Dougie Poynter and Daisy and the Trouble with Christmas by Kes Gray.

Garry Parsons is the award-winning illustrator of many books, including There's An Ouch In My Pouch by Jeanne Willis, the best selling The Dinosaur that Pooped... series by Tom Fletcher and Dougie Poynter, George’s Secret Key to the Universe by Lucy and Stephen Hawking and Billy’s Bucket by Kes Gray. Visit him at GarryParsons.co.uk. Follow him on twitter @icandrawdinos

The Tooth Fairy’s Christmas by Peter Bently and illustrated by Garry Parsons (Hodder Children’s Books).