London, England —December 1843

Yesterday, upon a crisp December morn, the esteemed author, Mr. Charles Dickens, Esq., graced our humble publication with his presence. A man esteemed for his social conscience and literary prowess, Mr. Dickens regaled us with a tale that could only be described as a marvel as if from one of his own stories – A Christmas Carol, one might dare say!

Our eager reporter, ever curious, inquired about Mr. Dickens’ acquaintance with a certain Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge, a name synonymous with avarice in our fair city.

“Alas, young sir,” Mr. Dickens declared with a twinkle in his eye, “my connection with Mr. Scrooge is but slight. However, his reputation precedes him! A man of flint, they say, with a heart as cold and unyielding as a winter’s stone. Secretive and solitary as a hermit crab, with a miserly disposition that chills one to the very bone. The last time I glimpsed this grasping curmudgeon, his very features seemed frozen in a perpetual grimace, his nose like a sharpened icicle, and his lips pursed tight as a purse string. Yet, through it all, his voice, grating as a rusty hinge, speaks volumes of his cunning and lack of Christian charity. Does this paint a sufficient picture, dear sir?”

Flustered yet determined, the young reporter stammered, “Well, sir, perhaps we could focus on the matter at hand—these ghostly apparitions you mentioned.”

“Alas, young sir,” Mr. Dickens declared with a twinkle in his eye, “my connection with Mr. Scrooge is but slight. However, his reputation precedes him! A man of flint, they say, with a heart as cold and unyielding as a winter’s stone. Secretive and solitary as a hermit crab, with a miserly disposition that chills one to the very bone. The last time I glimpsed this grasping curmudgeon, his very features seemed frozen in a perpetual grimace, his nose like a sharpened icicle, and his lips pursed tight as a purse string. Yet, through it all, his voice, grating as a rusty hinge, speaks volumes of his cunning and lack of Christian charity. Does this paint a sufficient picture, dear sir?”

“Indeed, sir, a most vivid image,” our reporter conceded. “But what of these spectres? Do they hold the key to this potential Christmas miracle?”

“Patience, young sir!” Mr. Dickens chuckled. “We must first establish the depths of Mr Scrooge’s penny-pinching. Only yesterday, the poor man harshly evicted a friend of mine from his very counting house—a kind soul collecting for the Hospital for Sick Children, no less! An institution I myself hold dear. What would it have inconvenienced this miserly old sinner to part with a few of his shillings for those innocent souls?”

Mr. Dickens’ voice rose with indignation, his words painting a vivid picture of a man consumed by greed. It was clear that the transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge if it were to occur, would be a most extraordinary tale indeed. And our reporter, with bated breath, awaited the continuation of this fantastical yarn….

A moral fairy tale, complete with Ghosts and emotive Christmas imagery

If, like me (until last week), you haven’t read or seen A Christmas Carol for years, here’s a quick recap. The story begins with Ebenezer Scrooge, a cold-hearted financier, rejecting the festive cheer of his nephew Fred and refusing to donate to charity. His solitary existence is interrupted on Christmas Eve by the ghost of his former partner, Jacob Marley, who warns him of a bleak future if he doesn’t change his ways. Jacob is weighed down by a chain made of “cashboxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, and heavy purses wrought in steel”. Marley frightens Scrooge by telling him he’s working hard to make his own chain.

Scrooge is then taken on a journey through time by the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.

The Ghost of Christmas Past shows him moments of joy and regret from his life, including his lost love and youthful innocence. The Ghost of Christmas Present reveals the hardships faced by the poor, including the family of his clerk, Bob Cratchit. Finally, the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come terrifies Scrooge a grim vision of his lonely death, mourned by no one.

Horrified by what he sees, Scrooge awakens with an almost reckless embrace of the Christmas spirit, donating giddily to charity and finding joy in giving to needy friends and family. At its heart, the story is about freedom brought through generosity. Understanding the downward trajectory of his life reforms Scrooge and liberates him from the prospect of a lonely death. The chains fall away and he leaves his miserly ways behind.

An unsurpassed lens into the lives of the Victorian urban poor

Dickens wrote about issues like the lives of the extreme poor that many other authors (before and since) have shied away from. His vivid characters, intricate plots and social commentary about the human condition are timeless. Many people find his writing style tedious or unreadable these days. Nonetheless, Dickens’ books continue to offer a profound and unsurpassed lens into his world.  

In the class-ridden Victorian society, the line between extreme poverty and destitution was a fine one. Despite an explosion in charitable activity during the era, too many families faced the awful conditions of workhouses and brutal penal institutions. The central message of A Christmas Carol was that wealthy Victorians could do more to improve society through philanthropy and action.

Bah humbug! Why does Dickens’s A Christmas Carol continue to have such influence?

Nearly two hundred years after its publication, this story remains part of the fabric of Christmas because it’s a joyous story. It was an instant hit for Dickens and has never lost its place in our hearts—the second most popular Christmas story.  For a book written in a few days, which only takes a couple of hours to read, it’s captivating. And who doesn’t love a good ghost story?

The gorgeous sketches of Victorian Christmas scenes make the book worth reading, whatever else you take away from it. But I found A Christmas Carol pulling at my heartstrings as I joined Scrooge in seeing the scenes of his life flash by. I teared up as he relived the events that slowly transformed him into a miserable and uncharitable old man who wasn’t even kind to himself.

The people Scrooge’s life offer a simple message that still resonates about the importance of generosity and compassion. Scrooge’s clerk, Bob Cratchit, may be poor, but he finds the happiness that eludes his wealthy employer through his kind nature and loving family. By refusing to let Scrooge’s miserly attitude dampen his spirits and continuing to invite his uncle to share his family Christmas every year, Scrooge’s nephew Fred shows the beauty of forgiveness. Tiny Tim, the youngest Cratchit, despite his disabilities, joins wholeheartedly in the celebrations with his family and friends and is warm and kind.

Dickens own rags-to-riches story

Dickens’s writing draws deeply on, as we now say, his ‘lived experience’. He started school at nine, but his world shifted on its axis when his father was imprisoned for bad debt to a baker and incarcerated in the notorious Marshalsea Prison. (Over half of England’s prisoners in the 18th century were in jail because of debt). Like a character in his books, sent to the city to earn his keep, the twelve-year-old Charles worked in a boot-blackening factory just off The Strand, where he pasted labels onto bottles for six shillings a week. He lived a bleak, lonely life in wretched lodgings.

Ultimately, his father worked his way out, and after three years, Dickens could return to school. Dickens based several of his characters on this experience, most notably Amy Dorrit, in Little Dorrit, whose father is a debtor in The Marshalsea.  

The man who invented Christmas

Dickens was a lifelong social crusader known to have supported 43 charities, including the Poor Man’s Guardian Society, the Birmingham and Midland Institute, the Metropolitan Sanitary Association, the Orphan Workers School and the London Hospital for Sick Children.

He gave generously to his friends and family and pushed more powerful and wealthy people to contribute. He also wrote impassioned articles supporting his causes and became actively involved with some, such as the Field Lane Ragged School, which educated destitute children. In 1846, he was instrumental in the foundation of a college providing housing and support for unmarried mothers, “fallen women” in the parlance of the times. He helped secure the location, co-designed the structure and interviewed potential staff.

Dickens changed how we viewed Christmas by writing A Christmas Carol and highlighting the importance of caring for others and the happiness it brings. He died at 58 and was intered in Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey alongside other literary greats, including Shakespeare, Geoffrey Chaucer, and Samuel Johnson.

Who is the best Scrooge?

At least twenty-five film adaptations and innumerable TV, radio and audio versions testify to the work’s enduring popularity. Actors such as Albert Finney, Jack Palance, Patrick Stewart, Jim Carey, Derek Jacobi, and Guy Pears have brought the unforgettable Ebenezer Scrooge memorably to our stages and screens. Even The Muppets got in on the seasonal act courtesy of Disney. The hilarious Muppet Christmas Carolwith Michael Cane as Scrooge and Kermit the Frog as Cratchit. Pundits often rate the 1951 portrayal by Alistair Sim as top Scrooge. Who would you choose?

Scrooge’s Inspirational Pledge

Despite Scrooge’s redemption in the story, it’s ironic that his name has entered the vernacular, meaning a greedy, miserly type, not the gleeful philanthropist at the end of the story. Calling someone a Scrooge is no compliment. Perhaps Good King Wenceslas cornered the Christmas generosity market. But, in our rich-get-richer world, Scrooge’s redemptive pledge is as relevant now as it was in Dicken’s day.

I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all year. I will live in the Past, the Present and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me.

Its power is the commitment to being better all year round, not just at Christmas, something Dickens believed and lived. The transformed Scrooge “found that anything could yield him pleasure”. Starting immediately, he raises the salary of the near-destitute Bob Cratchit and provides support that ultimately saves the life of the crippled Tiny Tim. Scrooge astonishes the fundraiser he’s been so dismissive of by making a generous donation. Then, he pitches up at his nephew’s Christmas Day party and thanks them for their kindness and welcome.

A Merry Christmas to one and all

Like most of us, I’d read Dickens at school and, with my family, avidly watched the TV and film adaptations. But I didn’t know much about the man himself before writing this piece. I’m inspired, humbled and moved by what I’ve found out. Dickens believed “No one is useless in the world who lightens the burdens of another”. He famously wrote, “Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, and a touch that never hurts”.

 His characters epitomise what this extraordinary man experienced and saw with eyes wide open everywhere around him. Rather than getting disillusioned by the enormity of the problems, Dickens never stopped trying. “I cannot stop some dreadful things I try to stop, but I go on in the hope and trust the time will come”.  That’s all anyone can do.

And so, in the words of the Carol cast, “A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us, everyone.”

Continue the Christmas theme by reading my other Christmas blog posts.

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You’re either in the OMG I’d rather drink hemlock camp with eggnog or a real devotee. It’s binary. No halfway house. You don’t sort of like the stuff. In case you missed the Christmas etiquette manual, eggnog has been a festive drink on the Yuletide menu for hundreds of years. These days, Americans are the nation that slurps it with most avidity.

I struggle to understand the eggcitement about eggnog, after a youthful close encounter of the egg drink kind with Advocaat. Eggnog is just warm, spicy custard in a glass. It might be more palatable with a spike of alcohol, but it beats me why you wouldn’t opt for a civilised mulled wine if you want cosy fireside comfort when snow is falling snow on snow outside. But different strokes for different folks. Each to their festive own.

As we’re in the run-up to the big day and eggnoggers worldwide start salivating in anticipation, I decided to do a little eggsploration to bring you the eggnog backstory.

Starting with an eggsplainer

Eggnog is pretty much what it says on the tin—an egg-based concoction with extras. That is a combination of egg whites, milk, cream, and sugar. You warm the mixture over heat until it thickens and becomes custardy, then flavour it with spices like nutmeg and cinnamon. It can be lightly or heavily “boozed” or virgin. You then serve the finished product either chilled like a punch or warm on those cold winter’s nights that are so deep … noel, noel, noel, noel .. (oops got a bit carried away with the theme there).

All ages and stages, guzzle eggnog. You’d have to hope they don’t feed the spiked version to the tots, though, or they might be dashing through the snow for different reasons.

A festive delight or a pour it into the nearest pot plant dread?

Eggnog celebrants thrill to the nostalgia and romance of it all. Eggnog evokes sentimental flashbacks to happy (real or imaginary) childhood holidays, family gatherings, and days of comfort and joy. They might be nostalgic for Holywood’s take-a-la James Stewart classic It’s a Wonderful Life—incredibly still a favourite 78 years after its release. Moist-eyed, remembering the eggnog-infused glow that gilded past happy times, they make sure the hallowed tradition of Christmases past lives on for future generations. For these aficionados, it’s almost incomprehensible that others don’t like the stuff. They put it down to never having tasted a good one.

Haters, on the other hand, find eggnog barfworthy. Eggscerable even. They demonise the cloying, rich heaviness and the underlying unpalatable eggyness, which leaves them frothing at the mouth. To the detractors, even alcohol doesn’t help the eggnog go down, no matter how many spoonfuls of sugar are involved. To these people, eggnog is more likely to induce an eggistential crisis than the aspirational Yuletide joy, love and peace. For them, no eggnog is a good eggnog.

It came to pass

Eggnog is a derivative of the early medieval British drink, posset. Posset combines curdled hot milk and wine or ale flavoured with spices. And you think eggnog sounds eggscrutiating! It was a posh drink—the upper classes were the only ones who could shell out the dosh for the milk, sherry, and eggs to make the posset.

How the transmutation from posset to eggnog happened is muddy, but who can explain evolution? OK, Darwin, for one, but you know what I mean. Here’s how it seems to have gone down. During the 1700s, an unidentifiable egg-based drink, which might or might not be a posset or an early eggnog prototype, stowed away on a ship and made a heroic Atlantic Crossing to the American Colonies. There, it became known as “egg-n-grog”, a mashup of ‘noggin” (wooden drinking cup in Scottish Gaelic) and “grog”( hard liquor such as rum). It didn’t take long for the catchier “eggnog” to stick, and eggnog it remained.

The American colonies were awash with milk, eggs and cream from swathes of chicken and cattle farms. They were also awash with cheap rum. So, eggnog became an equal opportunity drink rather than the preference of the privileged and landowning classes who promptly forgot about it back in the Home Country. Ultimately, it became a mainstay of the Christmas festive tradition in the land of the free.

The USA is eggnog central

 A YouGov Poll in 2020 found that about a quarter of Americans identify as eggnogers, i.e., eggnog is their favourite seasonal drink. That’s about 84 million people (based on the 2023 US Census Bureau figures). More than the total population of the UK (68.35m), more than three times the population of Australia (26.64m) and nearly 17 times the population of New Zealand. Eggstraordinary!

According to The Smithsonian Magazine, Americans consume more than 15 million gallons of eggnog annually—some 240 million cups of the stuff. Eek! Older Americans (50 +) are the eggy diehards—some sixty-one per cent saying they’re likely to break out the custardy goodness at Christmas versus only about twenty per cent of the under-fifty brigade.

Of course, I have no idea what the eggnog penetration rate was previously, so I have no idea if it’s gaining or falling in popularity. Twenty-five per cent is still a lot of people who love it…or lie to pollsters. Given the relatively low proportion of people under fifty who rate it, perhaps we’ve reached peak nog? Then again, rebellious youth often buck tradition only to return to them once families, jobs, mortages and other responsibilities arrive.

The eggnog has landed … elsewhere

According to Time Magazine, the eggnog Atlantic voyager also landed on the shores of Mexico, where residents revere it as “rompope” and Puerto Rico. Puerto Ricans clamour for “coquito”, which rejoices in the exotic addition of coconut milk. Kogel Mogel—great name—is a favourite of Jewish communities in Poland, and Germans have the popular homemade egg liquor, eierlikör.

Eggnog isn’t a Noel bonheur in La Belle France, although they do mange les Eggnog Madeleines with gusto. One reviewer I read called this combo—eggnog taste and Madelaine cake—a “match made in culinary heaven”. Magnifique—vive les Français! Still not feeling it, even with cake involved! But, the eggy-minded in the French Carribbean lap up laid de poule (milk of the chicken).

And then there’s Advocaat

The Dutch, of course, have Advocaat, the beverage that messed with my formative drinking psyche and put me off egg drinks for life. Dutch colonials appropriated the drink from the indigenous people in Brazil who made an alcoholic drink called “abacate” from avocado. The Dutch climate is not conducive to those warm-blooded fruits. You have to give it to them for innovation—they substituted eggs for avocados, which they thought would achieve a similar taste, and Advocaat was born. Advocaat means lawyer in Dutch and became their drink. Let’s face it, if lawyers like it…I rest my case.

Oh, dear god! Google just dished up something worse—Advonog. Or Advocaat plus Eggnog. This concoction has to disprove that the sum is more than the sum of the parts rule. Anyone’s stomach churning yet?

Canned, sealed, delivered… it’s yours

For many people now, eggnog is only something you buy, like custard, in a carton from a supermarket. Despite egg being integral to the whole idea, the commercial product can still claim to be eggnog with as little as 1% egg in the mix. A lot more nog than egg, you’d have to say. People most often drink it virgin—it’s not generally known that it can be a spiked drink.

Ultimately, whether you love or hate eggnog is a matter of personal preference. If you’re not a fan, happily, you can choose from a plethora of other enticing holiday thirst quenchers. I’m thinking the Ding Dong Merrily on High Champagne Cocktail (glass of fizz + sugar cube + dash of brandy). The Good King Wenceslas Kir Royale (Champagne and Crème de Cassis). Or the previously mentioned Mulled Wine (God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen recipe) for those looking for something to rejoice about.

If you’re in for an abstemious Advent, there is the classic Silent Night Virgin Mary. The SNVM offers the Christmas double whammy of your drink colour coordinating with your red and gold tree and acknowledging one of the key players in the Nativity. You could dab some frankincense on your pulse points to get further in the groove. But don’t get carried away—leave the asses in the stable where they belong.

Pavlova anyone?

We Brits mostly turn our noses up at eggnog—despite its Pommy posset roots. We see it as an American idiosyncrasy like biscuits and gravy and American football. I’m unaware of anyone whose holiday drink is a posset, but, like everywhere, we have our frolicsome foibles and favourites. We love our mulled wine, as noted above and what would the dinner table be without Christmas crackers? And Kiwis (in my adopted country, New Zealand) and our Aussie neighbours prefer our eggs in Pavlova form … mostly.

Whichever way you go, don’t get too egg-cited and eggsxpire from anticipation before the big day arrives.

Felice Navidad y’all.

What camp are you in?

Are you an eggnogger eggstraordinare or Grinch most grizzly when it comes to spiced custard in a cup? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below!

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I still cringe when I ‘fess up to anyone that I got scammed a few weeks ago. And why do I see in in confessional terms? As something somehow shameful? I was a victim not a perp after all. Knowing that doesn’t help much. Getting scammed is not something anyone is keen to admit to because we don’t want to admit to being helpless or gullible. It’s embarrassing. I certainly consider myself to be competent, confident and generally on to it. But, to be Biblical, pride goes before a fall. And how I fell.

I took a call early one morning which woke me up. It appeared to be from my bank asking about charges that had been added to my credit card and could I confirm whether they were bona fide. They mentioned several quite large charges in the $1,500-$2,000 range and I got into a panic because the voice on the phone kept telling me another one had come through and asking me to provide text message codes they were sending so they could stop them.

What a moron! The lack of request for vocal ID by the caller (supposedly from my bank) should have sent great big red letters of fire flashing before my eyes in warning. It didn’t, and I just kept on making it worse for myself. I’ve adroitly side-stepped other scammers. Not this time. I walked blindly into this one and the trap snapped savagely shut on my credulity like a gin-trap on the leg of a harmless little animal. Like the animal, I had no way out. I can hear your groans and cries of “what were you thinking?” from here. Believe me, there is nothing anyone can say to match what I’ve said to myself.

Being scammed is the ultimate own goal — you might as well set fire to the money

Of course I blame myself. But I’m not the villain of the story. I had a moment of poor judgement and am paying for it on many levels. Scammers are thieving amoral clever cxxts (sorry but there is no word I can think of that adequately describes my feelings other than this) who prey on our decency, credulity, frailties and fears. They don’t care who they hurt or how deep the damage. When I got the call, my fear of financial loss was triggered and I didn’t stop to think. Stupid me. Poor me. Maxima mea culpa. All of the above. But it’s not my fault that predators exist. There have been charlatans, mountebanks, fraudsters, imposters and confidence tricksters since Adam was a boy.

The financial loss wasn’t insignificant and it doesn’t look like there’s much chance of getting the money back. They’re investigating, but my expectations are lower than the proverbial wicked stepmother’s morals. I lost what was to me a fair chunk of money which means I can’t take trip home to the UK that I was planning for Christmas. But the scammers thankfully didn’t wipe me out.

I know scams often leave some people with nothing, so it could have been a lot worse. That’s like telling your kids to eat their greens because starving kids in less lucky places would be so grateful for your Brussels Sprouts! Just BTW, do any kids anywhere like Brussels Sprouts? Hard to imagine. In any case, it was enough money to cause me some real pain. If there could be a silver lining, I was lucky that I didn’t give any actual passwords to any of my other accounts.

But it’s not just the money

The financial loss was only a part of it. I felt violated. Dirty. Pathetic. Ashamed. Foolish. Vulnerable. Duped. Fragile. Worst of all, defeated. These are not emotions or states that I often experience. That sounds very smug, but it’s true. In my own eyes, I’m not a fool or an object of pity. Yet in the course of one very mis-guided phone call I proved myself to be just that. I got well and truly hung out to try. Trussed like a fowlfor the spit. Taken to the clearners. Caught hook, line and sinker. Done like a dog’s dinner. The scammers ate me up and spat the bones out.

It’s hard to put my finger on why this epidode has left me reeling when many other ostensibly worse things haven’t hit so hard. My last blog covered how to use the lemons life lobs at us creatively. I’m pretty good at that, but I’ve been struggling to think how to put a positive spin on this. I know from experience that time will heel the wound. I just wish time would also wound those scamming heels. It was a bruising experience that rocked me to the core. The whole sorry saga doesn’t jive with my sense of who I am. I’m Tigger for God’s sake! But I seriously had to check my premises and assumptions because if I could be that fooled in that way, am I fooling myself about other stuff?

The ‘gift’ that keeps on giving

I am still struggling to let myself off the hook even though I know I’m in good company and smarter folk that me have been hooked as badly or worse. Maybe some of my self-disgust is because I’ve seen too many movies where wealthy mature women get targeted by charming con artists like Steve Martin and Michael Caine in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Scammed is another one of those things I didn’t want to be when I grew up. And yet here I am.

I wasn’t going to write about this. I thought I’d got over it. And, to be honest, why would I focus on my own idiocy. But I mentioned what had happened to someone I know just in passing in a text and that ripped the Band Aid off. The hurt and bewilderment is still lurking like basking sharks waiting for their opportunity feed. I’ve cried as I’ve written this. I’m surprised by the depth of emotion. But it’s been cathartic and I’m glad to have got it off my chest.

We won’t get fooled again

I won’t let those parasitic, bottom feeding low life’s grind me down or I’d risk becoming a recluse who despises their fellow humans. I’m not that person. I’m still Tigger. Tiggers have to bounce. See all the happy things. Believe the best in people. But I’m also human. I hope Karma is a real thing. That what goes around comes around. So these travesties of humans who steal and cheat people out of their honestly gained savings, bring endless misery and don’t bring or create anything of value, get theirs in time.

We get bombarded with scamming stings. Phishing phantasamagorias. They work because they are so believable or play on our sympathies and inherent good nature. Would it have been less of an issue for me if the money involved was less? That a yes, because I wouldn’t be angry on two levels. If it was only a few dollars, I’d only be feeling foolish. But being scammed is a horrible experience on many levels. No one walks away unscathed. I hope telling my story will offer solidarity to others who have gone through it so We Won’t Get Fooled Again.