Fairy Tree Topps.

It should have been so easy, the planning had been done, gifts bought, cards written, everyone involved informed of what was required, the time was set; but then everything went "Clovelly!" Father Christmas let me down, the sleigh was locked away, nobody was to be found and there were still cards to be delivered, and this was Christmas Eve!

For the past 20 years the Clovelly Lifeboat crew have been delivering small gifts to the more Senior moments of the village, a way of expressing thanks and good wishes for all the support and assistance they receive throughout the year. Huddled at the head of the hill the crew gather with a suitably robed Father Christmas and festively adorned sledge, they make their way merrily through the village, getting more and more merry and generally louder as they descend. Occasionally they are thanked, at times even refreshed, until they reach the landmark of the New Inn, half way, and New Inn hospitality takes some beating, too soon it's bon voyage and down a-long the long passage to the Quay.

So it is with a "stand in," Father Christmas suited up, unfortunately more Yo ho ho! than Ho ho ho! Poor kiddies!! The Sleigh finally liberated, cards hurriedly deposited and crew collected the night time Christmas Sleigh can finally begin its long trip down through the houses.

Walking down the cobbled village the half asleep night time houses with their doors closed to the cold outside and half pulled curtains revealing the seasonal glow of prized Christmas tree, people within watch the television and the shadows waiting for........ Well, waiting anyway.
But have you ever wondered about their decorations, the first Christmas together baubles, the babies first crib, the gifts so lovingly wrapped, the lights twinkling bright, each hung in a familiar way year after year, have you ever wondered..................

The tree is up, the tired and trusty decorations hung, balls and baubles, bells and bows, high upon the top sits the same old Star, dull and fading, wanting only to hang upon the back branches away from the limelight, and below him the Angel-in-Waiting, happily chomping on chocolates and sweets as she waits for her turn on top; while far far below sat on the edge of the tree trunk bucket with her broken string sits Fairy Tree Topps. Fairy Tree Topps wants the top job but there's a lot of tree between them, she decides to ask the other decorations for their help. Beside her a lonely tin soldier swings on parade, he says he'll help only if she helps him find his lost troupe, Fairy Tree Topps promises and off they climb. On the next branch they come across a Shepherd whose lost his flock, with a promise to help find the missing sheep the Shepherd joins the Fairy and the Soldier as they continue up the tree. It was a worried looking Reindeer that stopped them next, he'd lost the Sleigh and was afraid of spoiling Christmas, the Fairy promised to find the Sleigh if he would help her, so on they went. Three lost Kings that couldn't see the fading Star were on the next branch, afraid they'd missed the birth, the Fairy agreed to lead them to the Star if in return they'd help her. "It's a sign of the times," said the Chubby Cherub, "No one falls in love the old way any more!" So with a promise from the Fairy to help set up an online dating agency; bowandarrow.com, they all carried on. The cool sounds of Christmas drifted down through the branches as The Fairy and her friends came across the coolest man on the tree, the Snowman, sat in the Sleigh surrounded by sheep listening to the Drummer boy and the Trumpet Major and above them the Angel-in-Waiting!
She'd waited since she'd been bought from the shop, it seemed like ages and now it was her turn, no stuck up Fairy was going to take it from her; Fairy Tree Topps tried to push by, but the Angel stood in the way, side to side they went rocking the tree, back and forth, back and forth until tipping and toppling, wibbling and wobbling, the tree fell over! down went the decorations tumbling to the floor including the Star who'd never had so much fun, he laughed and laughed and positively shone, brighter than ever before.

The Lifeboat crew and Father Christmas find the lamp lit harbour quiet and still, the gifts all given the carols sung, the Red Lion warm and welcoming. Another Clovelly tradition upheld as locals and hotel residents join together for a merry night of celebration, for tomorrow shall be Christmas day.

If you wonder what became of Fairy Tree Topps and the Star, well when the family awoke in the morning they were met by a glorious tree and on the top a bright shiny Star. Where was Fairy Tree Topps? Well she was where she belonged, on the bottom; and who put them all back? Well that would be telling.................

Happy Christmas

One thing about Clovelly is it lends itself to Christmas, the two go together like Christmas pudding and clotted cream; throughout the closed wooded valley wisps of smoke from the coal lump chimneys gently odour the air with that cosy Victorian Christmas card appeal. Lights decorate the cottage fronts with trees winking from behind the nosey curtains, each house waiting for that magical arrival, each hotel buzzing and rocking with party excitement, a carol sung atmosphere hangs over the village.

We each make the effort to enjoy the season, taking our share of Chapel songs, meeting the faces we only see rarely once or twice a year, feasting on mince pies, sausage rolls and rich yule food washed away with strong dark tea; gathering the spirit of the time, making each day apart of the whole day, apart of the season.

Christmas has a habit of haunting you, it brings the childhood village into mind, glorious snow filled adventures into the parks and woodland with our father and a landrover full of fir trees and holly bagged bushes prickling knees all the bumpy way home, with a tree for the neighbours and a tree for the school and a tree for the pub and holly, berry red to be tied to all the boats.

Year follows year as last years dance leaves "that song," embedded in the box of "not to be," memories. Families grow older, children return as people, Clovelly settles down, comfortable with her valley gathered about her like a glorious grandmother; and as the last chorus of another Silent Night ebbs away, it's who we are with today that matters, the friends, family, wherever in the world they maybe; and ones we share the hot buttered fireside toast and opened tins of chocolates with; and with whom, like Clovelly herself, we shall wait for Christmas. To each and everyone of you Happy Christmas.

That Christmas moment.

Of course it's not really just about the lights, the low budget that funds them or the capable volunteers who uncomplainingly support them, it's not even about the RNLI or the Clovelly Estate Company that benefit from them. This is not a High street show designed to match the seasonal celebrations or parties that rock the homes and hotels; or encourage the hurried shoppers looking for those little festive extras, the buy one get one free, store for war deals, under the influence of dated Christmas hits played repeatedly by loudspeaker, busker and band.

It's not about that one cold day in December when the whispering Northerly winds bite into the gathering, chattering people, excited and expectant, cuddled in woollen hats and scarves with mittened fingers clasping plastic mugs of hot chocolate or mulled punch.

It's not the Dickensian charm of the Hartland Town Band or the male voice choir that leads the huddled mass in hymn and carol, or the fine voiced readers who repeat the well rehearsed lessons of Christmas past.

Not the Father Christmas, dressed up and jolly, the children believing, the parents needing something to believe; the meeting of Christmas card friends, rarely seen from one Winter to the next. Or the grand firework finale that explodes into the night sky adding sparkle and colour to the lights, combining with the clear night sky stars, falling over the harbour to gasps and delight.

It's about that one moment, the switch on second, the time when nothing else matters, other than to be here, when no one cares who you're stood beside, when for once everybody wants the same thing and everyone waits, with the night ending with that peaceful satisfaction that we have all been part of something special.

Two men and a thousand light bulbs

Take two men, hundreds of metres of cable, thousands of light bulbs and the odd plug or two. Mix with a generous amount of nails, a handful of screws, a bucket of clips, several bits of string and a pinch of rope. Using a hammer, screwdriver, drill or pebble, fix to bits of batten, bits of aluminium frame, bits of crumbling wall, bits of tree and bits of house. (Please remember, permission should be sought from tenants before attaching anything to property.) Fixing while climbing, clambouring, or balancing on a precariously leaning ladder is not recommended by the Health and Safety executive!
Stand back at a suitable distance, admire, rearrange; stand back a bit further, arrange back; stand back with a female perspective and completely alter.
nb. Don't forget to test all appliances before fixing in unreachable and dangerous places, to avoid unneccessary, costly and time consumming delays.
Drink copious amounts of tea or coffee, with or without milk and sugar. Take down and replace all faulty appliances. Stand back once more at a suitable distance, preferably in the dark and admire. Rearrange!
Finally when all hope is lost and time has run away screaming; prepare for the day when all the hard work, wiring, pluging in and pluging out, bulb changing and finger crossing has to be switched on. This is the preparation that blends the Clovelly Harbour lights together.
Over the last few years many men and women have been involved with the lights, joined in with the happy banter, voiced an opinion, had a better idea; all while holding the ladder bottom and passing cable ties to the same old fools that end up clinging on for dear life while fixing lights by their teeth! Most happy helpers have fallen by the Wintery wayside, unable to cope with the light intrigue that goes side by side with seasonal designing; or simply moved on up the cobbled street to bless the village cottages with festive neon. But two men Norman Saunders and Barry Perham, have stayed the course, setting the example to continue alone dressing the harbour and bringing joy and delight to all those that brave the cold wind chill factor and cheap toddies, to sing the carols and read the lessons, meet Father Christmas and gasp at the great switch on, which this year shall be on Sunday 7th of December.
It only takes two men, hundreds of metres of cable and thousands of bulbs to make a chorus of blue-nosed, well wrapped, cosy-spirited, carol singers smile. Happy Christmas lights.