It’s been a beautiful day in Dorset. We went for drives in the  Morris 1000. The sun is now setting along the valley. Maggie, Roland, Will and I have just a delicious lunch. Mags & Roland are off to Cornwall as we slip into a quiet afternoon listening to the carol service from Kings College.

My regret, as always, is not getting around to sending Christmas cards. Time was when this was something I got to, in time, with relish. But I think (as my friend George said the other day) this is just a period of our lives when Christmas cards are, just, not going to happen.

Looking back, I found this Christmas Alphabet, which I made in the winter of 1998, a few months before I moved to New York; in the days when I could draw (and had time to). A bottle of champagne to the first reader who emails me with a correct list of contents. B is for Book Room. D is for dusk. V is for View (of a Valley, in Wales).   The rest I must leave you to guess.

All answers on a postcard please, or better still on an email to ben.pentreath@benpentreath.com, by the 6th January 2012.

Have a very very happy, peaceful Christmas. With love, from Ben

An extraordinary sky this evening, as drenching rain and storms cleared just at the close of the day. Then it was time for cake and mince pies by the fire with Mum and Dad; my friends Maggie, Roland and Will are stuck in traffic on the motorway but making steady progress. It’s beginning to feel like Christmas time!

If you follow me on Twitter (and if you don’t, which I would entirely understand, but might like to, you can here) you will have noticed that I’ve been particularly excited in the last couple of days about the beautiful St. Judes production of Random Spectacular – a truly beautiful, and fascinating, thing. I’m afraid all copies of No. 1 have sold out (within 48 hours) but may I recommend you sign up now so that you know when the next Spectacular will arrive?

Well, amongst many spectacular pages I think my favourites are the ones which follow: Tuscan Town Scenes, by Emily Sutton. Incredible, no?

I first came across Emily’s work this summer, and her lovely printed fabric, Curiosity Shop, for St. Judes. 

But Random Spectacular prompted me to have a better look at her work. A small and beautiful selection from her website:

Some of these remind me very much of the Sicilian shop signs I photographed in the summer. And we can’t get enough of those.

This last print is from her ongoing Alphabet series. I rather think we have a new Edward Bawden. And that E is not for Elephant, but it is for Emily Sutton. Hooray!

But I’ve been baking.  All those flipping “GET READY FOR CHRISTMAS NOW” Blogs to live up to.  Yikes. How do they do it?  Hang on… how do I do it?

Actually, I just thought I’d surprise everyone and bring some mince pies into the office when I get back to London tomorrow afternoon.  Only, I suppose having turned this selfless private gesture it into a “How the flip do i do it aren’t you jealous of my busy lifestyle” blog, it won’t be such a surprise after all. Hmm.

It’s been a manic day: my friend George and I have been getting a major planning application in today. And if I’m really honest – there’s not much which is nicer at the end of all that than emptying your brain of all thought and turning flour and butter into pastry and then into pies. Magic. If only building was quite so simple.

And quick. God, I love how quickly cooking happens.  It’s taking 5 years to build the part of the development that George and I, and our friend Johnny, have been designing down here in Dorset (and about another 30 years for it to get nice, lived in, rough around the edges). I’m just about to start work on a project in Scotland which is going to take sixty years (SIXTY YEARS) to finish. Strange to think I’ll be dead! So it’s quite nice to cook some mince pies in 15 minutes to perfection, 5 minutes to cool.

My preferred recipe of choice: Orlando Murrin from the BBC website. You can find it here, and when it says it’s unbelievably easy… yes, it’s flipping unbelievably easy.  Believe me. Impress your friends, please your granny. Make some mince pies.  Although I would recommend 15 minutes in the oven, not 20, unless you like black pies.

While we’re at it: I took this photo in the Sunday sunshine. I liked very much the way the light was falling on my dresser, and on the Wedgwood biscuitware terrine, with its handle in the shape of a perfect, crouching rabbit. Nice, hey?

Quite a different from freezing, drenched Dorset today. Time to bake.

Earlier this morning, I was having a bit of a clean up. And came across this little book… Immediately I was propelled back 30 years or more. When I was about six or seven it was one of my absolute favourites. I loved the ladybird books—interesting to see how (for all of us early 70s children) they have suddenly started appearing at street markets and bookstalls—but of all of them, these Nature series illustrated by Tunnicliffe were ones that I returned to again and again.

Of course, it was only later in life that I learned more about Charles Tunnicliffe and his wonderful illustrations—in both watercolour and wood engraving, and later scraper-board as his eyesight began to fail. When I was young, it was the microcosm within a page that transported me (although I didn’t know it at the time). The book at once brought home the deep chill of the shortest days of midwinter and ended with the optimism of spring.

Looking back now, there is a nostalgia, a poignancy, for the lost countryside of 1959 (when What to Look for in Winter was first published). A few pages here.

Why do I crave a publisher producing books for young children as beautiful, as richly illustrated, and as packed with knowledge, today?

I arrived in Dorset last night, late. I’m glad to say the AGA man had at last done what he needed to do, just in time for winter. The house was no longer freezing. I woke this morning to a bitterly cold, clear, frosty valley.

But wandering around the garden, early, there’s something curious going on. A hoar frost was burning off in the brilliant sunshine—but in amongst it all, a surprisingly amount of late summer flowers linger, amongst early arrivals who were convinced by the warm autumn that spring had arrived.  I even notice the first shoots of daffodil bulbs, which was a good thing to see as we get close to the winter solstace.

The cycle of the seasons never stops, even if it does, like us all, get a bit confused from time to time.

You can read my little blog for everyone’s favourite newspaper here. Happy weekend…

What a fun night last night! All the shops were open for a bustling evening. Wine flowed and mince pies were consumed and it was great to say hello to many old friends and lots of new ones.  Max was the star of the show, followed by Robin (who had banished Simon his identical twin to the packing room for fear of confusing the customers). Bridie sparkled almost as brightly as the christmas lights. Happy Christmas everyone, and we hope to see you on Rugby Street over the next weeks if you can. If not, the elves in the internet department are working overtime to wrap beautiful packages and dispatch to all corners of the kingdom. Last orders – 20th December.

On Thursday 8th December, Lambs Conduit and Rugby Streets are hosting our very own Happy Christmas Street Party  -where all the stores will be staying open late, offering seasonal goodies and special one-night-only discounts.  We would love to see you here!  Ben, Bridie, Robin & Fred.

It was a weekend where one thing morphed into another. Rob, one of my colleagues, and I got back from one our of projects in Scotland late on Friday evening. On Saturday I visited a rather handsome house, in an architectural square in Islington, which a client is potentially thinking of buying—well it’s always fun looking around houses. I pottered around Islington and wandered home. The afternoon merged into early evening; I lit a fire and snoozed and dealt with emails and then had an evening catching up with back episodes of Mad Men. Quadruple billing. Perfect.

On Sunday morning, my friend Will and I went to look at the Conran exhibition at the Design Museum, and then we zoomed on down to the Dulwich Picture Gallery.  Now the thing is, the Dulwich Picture Gallery is one of those places I should have visited for ever. Designed by Soane, it always the building that every architect in London always names as ‘their most inspirational building in London’. Just for instance. The problem is, it’s in Dulwich (sorry, readers of Dulwich); and it’s always felt like a little bit too much of a trek. Really? Well, finally, we made it. Very fine—and Dulwich was very beautiful too (okay?).

And then we drove back and the afternoon morphed into evening and a bonkers party at the Art Workers Guild which involved tea and cakes and making Christmas hats from old musical scores; and a hilarious evening in the pub with the young Fox & Flytes and friends. Fox & Flyte have been installing an extraordinary Christmas tree in the back of the shop. More on that soon.

My point being, that if I had been a clever person my camera would have been with me throughout and this would have  been a very illustrated blog.  But it was not. The thing about a weekend that morphs is that you never quite know what you’re doing at the time, or next. And the thought of illustrating it would be, well, a bit… beyond good taste.

And I was thinking about morphing, and deep in my brain, a little memory spark went off which might ring a bell for all of us who were about 6 or 7 in 1977 and watching Childrens’ BBC. Tony Hart? Who probably got me more excited about drawing than anyone else. And his little plasticine friend Morph, who used to climb out of his pencil box? For all nostalgia seekers, look no further, and have a very happy morning.