Fi Phillips

I know, I know, 2012 isn't here yet but while I have a little time before I start to celebrate, I thought I'd consider how I might improve my writing in the year to come. I don't normally make personal resolutions but a new year seems like an excellent opportunity to spend time considering the creative portion of my life. Resolution No. 1 - Finish My Novel This one doesn't require any explanation really. Resolution No. 2 - Read More Books I've always found an indulgent joy in settling myself down in a silent room with a book to keep me company. 2011 has kept me so busy though that I've got out of the habit of reading for pleasure. In 2012, that is going to change. Resolution No. 3 - Give Myself Permission To Write As I said above, 2011 has been an incredibly busy year, ending with a house move that I'm still recovering from. Gradually, I've allowed the school run, housework and commitments to other people to eat into my writing time. In 2012,...

Just a short one to wish you all the best for tomorrow. Merry Christmas.

I've spent this month talking about the kind of Christmas's that I was brought up with, the traditions and the memories that shaped the way I approach the festive season with my own children. The one thing I haven't mentioned is that this time of year always holds a gem of sadness. You might think that it's odd to team up the word 'gem' with the concept of sadness but to me it's a very fitting description. The sadness comes from the memories that this time of year conjures up. The people I've told you about, the Brinkmans, the Halls, our neighbours and my parents, are nearly all gone now. Only two of them remain, one of the neighbours who has remained a firm friend and my godmother, both of them in their eighties. I firmly believe that life constantly throws a hotch potch of good and bad into our paths so I welcome this sadness along with the enjoyment of Christmas. As I watch my children open their presents, I remember doing the same with my own p...

In the northern hemisphere today is the Winter Solstice, also known as Yule or Yuletide. In the run up to Christmas with all it's nods to the Christian faith, it's easy to forget that Yule is a pagan festival. My father came from a mixed background faith-wise. His mother was a devout episcopalian Christian, having been an instrumental part of a congregation of followers who built their own church. She held her faith dear to her heart. My grandfather had a more casual link to the church, adhering to it simply because the community he was part of required him to. He joined his wife's church to please her but he was much closer to the land, to nature and to the pagan ways. My father had much the same attitude as his father to the church, while my mother saw attending services, having her child, me, christened, and being wed in church as the right and proper thing to do. Where my father would see Christmas Eve as a time for family to spend some quiet time together, my mot...

My parents were frequent visitors to the theatre, taking me to our local Theatre Royal at least once a month, and each December we would see a pantomime. As a child, the romance of the principal boy and girl was pleasant enough but I would wait excitedly for the Dame to come on. Dressed in garish colours, with a suitcase of jokes and one-liners, the Dame and her put-upon sidekick would make my night.

My father and I didn't tend to like the same TV programmes when I was a child. He watched the football. I liked Blue Peter. He enjoyed Fawlty Towers. I preferred Animal Magic. One programme we did agree on was Doctor Who .  Like every child before me, I hid behind the sofa when the Daleks trundled on and peeped out between my fingers at the Cybermen, but there was something exciting and otherworldly about the Doctor and his companions travelling through time in a blue box. On Christmas Day, Doctor Who was the height of viewing for my father and me. This year, I'll be watching it with my husband, our children and my in-laws. I've loved all the Doctors but Jon Pertwee was the one I remember most fondly. Which was your favourite?    

This was a typical New Year's Eve party at our house. Everyone would be dressed up (that's me in the pink dress and the bad perm). Our group would usually number around ten - my parents and me. the Griffins and their son, the Jones and their friends Madge and Jim. The evening would start with a meal out at a country pub, then it'd be back to our house for a party until midnight. At twelve o'clock, everything would stop and as the final chime rang out, we'd join hands and sing 'Auld Lang Syne'. After the resulting hugs, we'd go first footing, calling in on each other's houses. Sometimes one of us would bring along a piece of coal and a sprig of greenery, other times it would be a bottle of wine. One year, Jim even led us down the street playing his bagpipes. Unfortunately the mad gasman (one of the neighbours not at our party) called the police that year but that's another story altogether. Christmas Day was different. The morning was for pyja...