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A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Choral favorite which retells the famous poetic memoir by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. Commissioned by the Harmonium Choral Society, Dr. Anne Matlack, Music Director, and composed by Matthew Harris. For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.... read more

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A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Sat December 20 2008

Choral favorite which retells the famous poetic memoir by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. Commissioned by the Harmonium Choral Society, Dr. Anne Matlack, Mus... read more

Part 1 of A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Wed April 25 2007

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_E... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. One Christmas Was So Much Like Another in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, th... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. One Christmas Was So Much Like Another in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the iceedged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen. read less

Part 2 of A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Wed April 25 2007

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_E... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. Fire! cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong. And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house; and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii. Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in the middle of the room, saying, A fine Christmas! and smacking at the smoke with a slipper. Call the fire brigade, cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong. They won t be there, said Mr. Prothero, It s Christmas. There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting. Do something, he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke I think we missed Mr. Prothero and ran out of the house to the telephone box. Let s call the police as well, Jim said. And the ambulance. And Ernie Jenkins, he likes fires. But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve. And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky room, Jim s Aunt, Miss Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets, standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said, Would you like anything to read? read less

Part 3 of A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Wed April 25 2007

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_E... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night ... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: It snowed last year, too. I made a snow-man and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea. But that was not the same snow, I say. Our snow was not only shaken from whitewash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunderstorm of white, torn Christmas cards. read less

Part 4 of A Child's Christmas In Wales by Matthew Harris

Wed April 25 2007

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_E... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. And then the presents? There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be t... read more

For more music by Harmonium Choral Society, search "Choral Explorations" in the iTunes podcast section, or visit http://www.gcast.com/u/jabez/Choral_Explorations.xml; or visit http://www.sustainyourspirit.com. And then the presents? There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that could be tug-o -warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o -shanters like patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas, no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles pond and did and drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why. read less

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