So, I have a confession to make. When Bridie and I decided to close the shop for International Buy Nothing Day, on Saturday…

… it was really because Anastasia was at home with her family for Thanksgiving. Bereft of our Saturday Girl, we did not know quite what to do. Bridie was out and about gathering wood for her autumn fires and inspiration for the months to come, and I was down in Dorset cooking lunch for 16 people.  So it was quite convenient to realise that it was Buy Nothing Day and a good chance to close the shop and do precisely that (and, I would just like to note, I managed to Buy Nothing all day long – did you?).

Little did this prepare us for the following message that was left on one of the posters.  To the person who had come all that way (if by any chance you have a look at the website) I really am heartily sorry. I know how completely annoying it is to go a long way and find a shop closed.  To be honest, we were a little surprised and even a little flattered that someone is coming a long way to find us – but that doesn’t help it when we are shut.  I’m really sorry.

We will try better in the future. And if (mystery person) you would like to send Bridie and me an email with whatever it was you needed, we would be happy to give you a little token of our concern/apology, and hope that that might help.

Luckily, not everyone was so upset. We took the poster down. A little while later someone else had written another note on another poster. To that mystery person.. we did enjoy our day.  So thank you… and we are really very sorry to those that did not.

….and we have the perfect way to count down to the big day.  The Victorian Advent Calendar!

An A3 sized advent calendar put together by our friend Alan Powers.

The Pantomime developed during the Victorian years as a Christmas entertainment in two halves, the second being the ‘Harlequinade’, a combination of slapstick, physical stunts, one line jokes and popular songs. A street scene was an essential component, and the stock characters, Harlequin, Clown and Pantaloon, would wreak havoc with stolen sausages and practical jokes. On cue, the scenery would change to fit the dialogue with hinged flaps on ropes, showing some improbable alternative reality beneath the surface of the everyday.

The Victorian Advent Calendar uses prints based on these performances, originally intended as scenery for children’s toy theatre productions – a craze which lasted for half a century from the later Regency time , and was kept alive up to the 1940′s by stubborn shop keepers such as Benjamin Pollock of Hoxton, whose name is now synonymous with toy theatres. The spirit of Christmas jollity and allure of the shopping street alive again in the Advent Calendar.

Available now in the shop and online under Necessities.

Coming soon……… our Christmas Department!!!!

On the 21st of September we had a rather special gathering at Ben Pentreath Ltd. It was the publication date for ‘Timmy the Tug’.

Illustrated and written in 1952 by gaslight on the top floor flat of 18 Rugby Street. Jim Downer planned to impress a certain young lady into believing he was “a suitable sort of a husband – someone who might even make make a good father, and someone who perhaps had the romantic ambition of being an artist” (Swoon). At this time Number 18 was filled with artistic types, coming and going, all being impossibly creative. At the communal sink in the middle floor landing one day Jim was to strike up a friendship with Ted Hughes.

Upon discovering Jim’s attempts at wooing and courtship, Ted had only kind words about Jim’s work but offered his services in the prose department and took ‘Timmy’ away with him.

Time went by and life moved on. It turned out Jim didn’t need ‘Timmy’ to get the girl, he managed that on his own. Ted and Silvia left for America and ‘Timmy’ was relegated to a drawer, forgotten about.

Until, in 2008 ‘Timmy the Tug’ was unearthed by Ted Hughes widow Carol and it was returned to its rightful owner. Much to Jim’s delight Ted had been as good as his word and had written his verses.

‘Timmy’ was ready to set sail and it was Thames and Hudson who got everything ship shape, faithfully reproducing a complete facsimile of the work in hardback for everybody to enjoy. It was they, who on the 21st of September, bought Jim to Rugby Street for the first time in 53 years to break a bottle or two of champagne on ‘Timmy’ and give Jim the opportunity  to re-visit his old digs. Thanks to Bobby, a current tenant of Number 18, Jim was given the grand tour and shown how things are now. Not much has changed except the loo isn’t in the coal store anymore. I imagine it would have been quite nerve wracking coming back to a place where so much began all that time ago.

After a few hours, I think it is safe to say Jim had a pretty good impression that things haven’t changed much here on Rugby Street. Number 18 is still filled with impossibly artistic types, coming and going, doing impossibly creative things. And Rugby Street is all the better for having a little bit of it’s past immortalised for us all to enjoy. So we all live happily ever after.

I know there is a bit of a fan club out there for the Old Parsonage (hello Bridie’s mum & Rob Rae!!!) so here before I go to sleep are a couple of pictures which I took on Sunday evening. A massive storm in the night passed to reveal a soft quiet autumn morning on the first of November. The mist slowly cleared, and low slanting late afternoon sunshine shone in to my new sitting room while a fire flickered in the grate. I think it’s true to say that that first weekend was not far short of heaven.

A fantastic balmy air last week on Rugby Street…. as the shop was transformed by Bridie into a magical and marvelous wunderkammer of delights.  Here, as a little taster, is a photograph taken by our friend Simon Bevan of the crowd around the shop that night.  Simon will be back soon to record the cabinet in situ, for everyone who can’t quite make it – but for those that can, we look forward to seeing you in the shop, selecting a piece of Bridie’s coral, indulging in some ferny plates, or merely feeding a little cucumber to Winston (Bridie’s tortoise, for those that don’t already know) who is very happy in his fireplace and has now moved in to the shop.