Christmas. 2022. It is an especially magical Christmas this year for two reasons: we have my mother-in-law staying who we have not been able to see because of covid and the war. And because Emily is six – the perfect age for the magic of Christmas. In our household, we have three celebrations. Western Christmas (25th December), New Year’s Eve (the big celebration for Russians) and the Russian Orthodox Christmas (7th January), thirteen days after the Western Christmas because it adheres to the Julian calendar. Having two Christmases means we can invite all our children to be with us for the Russian Christmas. There is no family competition for their time so we have them all to ourselves. With two of them being grown up and with girlfriends, this is a boon.
7 Jan dip 
Brave 
Xmas morning 
The Christmas room
Although covid has blighted our health at exactly the wrong moment, we have still enjoyed a warm and traditional time together. The flat is cosy and the tree has had to last longer than other trees because of the extended celebratory period. It has been a shame that we were too ill to go and see the performance of A Christmas Carol in Brighton Pavilion’s music room, but we did go to the beautiful Glow Wild son et lumiere at Wakehurst Place and to the Royal Albert Hall for our annual pilgrimage to see The Nutcracker. Emily has Tchaikovsky’s score playing on Alexa on repeat and she delights in dancing to it all over the sitting room – as we delight in watching her.
Apart from the lovely rituals of Christmas – the stockings hung by the fireplace, the Christmas Eve offering of a mince pie, a small cup of whisky and a carrot left out for Father Christmas and his reindeer, the family Nativity service at St. Nicholas’s church in Brighton – the decoration of the tree, the ordering of the turkey from Canham’s the butcher and the stocking for and preparation of all the food, Christmas is the best excuse to replay all the sentimental films that have been such a fixture of my life.
The Xmas house 
Offering for you know who 
Bounty 
Xmas lunch 
Pud 
Christmas fairies 
Angel puts red star atop our tree
No Christmas is complete without playing a series of films which, for me – and now for Emily – are forever associated with the festive season. Of course, these are mainly musicals. As a British Russian family, there are new films to enjoy and which also play their role in our collective memory. The three big ones are the Russian version of Mary Poppins, the New Year’s Eve staple The irony of fate (which I really enjoy) and the fairytale The Snow Queen.
Although this year we ran out of time to include the classic It’s a wonderful life and although some films that other families love (Elf, the Muppets A Christmas Carol, The Grinch etc.) our selection is still glorious – even after multiple, multiple viewings. But this year, it was Emily’s first time where she could understand and enjoy these films. And that is what makes them magic all over again.
Some of these films are, to me at least, genius. They invariably make me cry at various points and Christmas just isn’t Christmas without enjoying their flight of fancy. I love the wit of the lyrics (Mary Poppins’s The life I lead, Gigi’s I remember it well and Thank heaven for little girls, High Society’s Now you has jazz and Who wants to be a millionaire, My Fair Lady’s Why can’t a woman be more like a man) or the brilliance of the story (A Christmas Carol, My fair lady, A Matter of Life and Death, North by North West). Or just the joyousness of the whole thing: The Sound of music and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. To see Emily laughing and mimicking the Doll on a music box scene has been an utter joy (even though she couldn’t bare to watch the child catcher).
So, just for the record, and as a purely sentimental exercise in recording my love of these films and times for posterity, here are my faves, my selection for entertainment at Christmas. Long may they play a part in my family’s communal experience of enjoying Christmas together – or, at least, with me.
Russian Mary Poppins 
The Life I Lead
Mr.Banks:
I feel a surge of deep satisfaction
Much as a king astride his noble steed
When I return from daily strife to heart and wife
How pleasant is the life I lead!Mrs. Banks:
[Spoken]
Dear, it’s about the children…Mr. Banks:
Yes, yes, yes!I run my home precisely on schedule
At 6:01, I march through my door
My slippers, sherry, and pipe are due at 6:02
Consistent is the life I lead!It’s grand to be an Englishman in 1910
King Edward’s on the throne;
It’s the age of men
I’m the lord of my castle
The sov’reign, the liege!
I treat my subjects: servants, children, wife
With a firm but gentle hand
Noblesse oblige!It’s 6:03 and the heirs to my dominion
Are scrubbed and tubbed and adequately fed
And so I’ll pat them on the head
And send them off to bed
Ah! Lordly is the life I lead!A British nanny must be a gen’ral!
The future empire lies within her hands
And so the person that we need to mold the breed
Is a nanny who can give commands!A British bank is run with precision
A British home requires nothing less!
Tradition, discipline, and rules must be the tools
Without them – disorder!
Catastrophe! Anarchy! –
In short, we have a ghastly mess!
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire
Who Has An Itch
To Be Filthy Rich?
Who Gives A Hoot
For A Lot Of Loot?
Who Longs To Live
A Life Of Perfect Ease?
And Be Swamped By Necessary Luxuries?
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
I Don’t.
Have Flashy Flunkeys Ev’rywhere?
I Don’t.
Who Wants The Bother Of A Country Estate?
A Country Estate Is Something I’d Hate!
Who Wants To Wallow In Champagne?
I Don’t.
Who Wants A Supersonic Plane?
I Don’t.
Who Wants A Marble Swimming Pool Too?
I Don’t.
And I Don’t
‘Cause All I Want Is You.
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
I Don’t.
And Have Uranium To Spare?
I Don’t.
Who Wants To Journey On A Gigantic Yacht?
Do I Want A Yacht?
Oh, How I Do Not!
Who Wants A Fancy Foreign Car?
I Don’t.
Who Wants To Tire Of Caviar?
I Don’t.
Who Wants A Private Landing Field Too?
I Don’t.
And I Don’t.
‘Cause All I Want Is You.
Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
I Don’t.
And Go To Every Swell Affair?
I Don’t.
Who Wants To Ride Behind A Liv’ried Chauffeur?
A Liv’ried Chauffeur
Do I Want? No Sir!
Who Wants An Opera Box, I’ll Bet?
I Don’t.
And Sleep Through Wagner At The Met?
I Don’t.
Who Wants To Corner Cartier’s Too?
I Don’t.
And I Don’t,
‘Cause All I Want Is You.
HIGGINS
What in all of heaven could’ve promted her to go,
After such a triumph as the ball?
What could’ve depressed her;
What could’ve possessed her?
I cannot understand the wretch at all.
Women are irrational, that’s all there is to that!
There heads are full of cotton, hay, and rags!
They’re nothing but exasperating, irritating,
vacillating, calculating, agitating,
Maddening and infuriating hags!
[To Pickering]
Pickering, why can’t a woman be more like a man?
PICKERING
Hmm?
HIGGINS
Yes…
Why can’t a woman be more like a man?
Men are so honest, so thoroughly square;
Eternally noble, historic’ly fair;
Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat.
Well, why can’t a woman be like that?
Why does ev’ryone do what the others do?
Can’t a woman learn to use her head?
Why do they do ev’rything their mothers do?
Why don’t they grow up- well, like their father instead?
Why can’t a woman take after a man?
Men are so pleasant, so easy to please;
Whenever you are with them, you’re always at ease.
Would you be slighted if I didn’t speak for hours?
PICKERING
Of course not!
HIGGINS
Would you be livid if I had a drink or two?
PICKERING
Nonsense.
HIGGINS
Would you be wounded if I never sent you flowers?
PICKERING
Never.
HIGGINS
Well, why can’t a woman be like you?
One man in a million may shout a bit.
Now and then there’s one with slight defects;
One, perhaps, whose truthfulness you doubt a bit.
But by and large we are a marvelous sex!
Why can’t a woman take after like a man?
Cause men are so friendly, good natured and kind.
A better companion you never will find.
If I were hours late for dinner, would you bellow?
PICKERING
Of course not!
HIGGINS
If I forgot your silly birthday, would you fuss?
PICKERING
Nonsense.
HIGGINS
Would you complain if I took out another fellow?
PICKERING
Never.
HIGGINS
Well, why can’t a woman be like us?
[To Mrs. Pearce]
Mrs. Pearce, you’re a woman…
Why can’t a woman be more like a man?
Men are so decent, such regular chaps.
Ready to help you through any mishaps.
Ready to buck you up whenever you are glum.
Why can’t a woman be a chum?
Why is thinking something women never do?
Why is logic never even tried?
Straight’ning up their hair is all they ever do.
Why don’t they straighten up the mess that’s inside?
Why can’t a woman behave like a man?
If I was a woman who’d been to a ball,
Been hailed as a princess by one and by all;
Would I start weeping like a bathtub overflowing?
And carry on as if my home were in a tree?
Would I run off and never tell me where I’m going?
Why can’t a woman be like me?
source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/soundtracks/m/myfairladylyrics/ahymntohimlyrics.html
Do-Re-Me
Let’s start at the very beginning
A very good place to start
When you read, you begin with A-B-C
When you sing, you begin with Do-Re-MiDo-Re-MiDo-Re-Mi
The first three notes just happen to be
Do-Re-MiDo-Re-MiDo-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti
Oh, let’s see if I can make it easyDo, a deer, a female deer
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name, I call myself
Fa, a long, long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note to follow So
Ti, a drink with jam and bread
That will bring us back to Do, oh, oh, ohDo, a deer, a female deer
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name, I call myself
Fa, a long, long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note to follow So
Ti, a drink with jam and bread
That will bring us back to DoA deer, a female deer
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name, I call myself
Fa, a long, long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note to follow So
Ti, a drink with jam and bread
That will bring us back to DoDo-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do, So-DoNow, children, Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So and so on
Are only the tools we use to build a song
Once you have these notes in your heads
You can sing a million different tunes by mixing them up
Like thisSo, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, ReCan you do that?So, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, ReSo, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, DoSo, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, DoNow put it all togetherSo, Do, La, Fa, Mi, Do, Re
So, Do, La, Ti, Do, Re, DoGoodBut it doesn’t mean anythingSo we put in words
One word for every note
Like thisWhen you know the notes to sing
You can sing most anything
TogetherWhen you know the notes to sing
You can sing most anythingDo, a deer, a female deer
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name, I call myself
Fa, a long, long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note to follow So
Ti, a drink with jam and bread
That will bring us back to DoDo, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do
Do, Ti, La, So, Fa, Mi, ReDo, Mi, Mi
Mi, So, So
Re, Fa, Fa
La, Ti, TiDo, Mi, Mi
Mi, So, So
Re, Fa, Fa
La, Ti, TiWhen you know the notes to sing
You can sing most anythingDo, a deer, a female deer
Re, a drop of golden sun
Mi, a name, I call myself
Fa, a long, long way to run
So, a needle pulling thread
La, a note to follow So
Ti, a drink with jam and bread
That will bring us back toSo (So, Do)
Re (La, Fa)
Mi (Mi, Do)
Fa (Re)
So (So, Do)
La (La, Fa)
Ti (La, So, Fa, Mi, Re)
Ti, Do
Doll on a music box
What do you see?
You people gazing at me?
You see a doll on a music box that’s
Wound by a key
How can you tell?
I’m under a spell
I’m waiting for love’s first kiss
You cannot see
How much I long to be free
Turning around on this music box that’s
Wound by a key
Yearning
Yearning
While I’m
Turning around and around
{TRULY(CARACTACUS)}
What do you see? (Truly Scrumptious)
You people gazing at me? (You’re truly, truly, scrumptious)
You see a doll on a music box that’s (Scrumptious as a cherry)
Wound by a key. (peach parfait)
How can you tell? (When you’re near me)
I’m under a spell. ( it’s so delicious)
I’m waiting for love’s first kiss. ( Honest, truly. You’re the)
(Answer to my wishes)
You cannot see (Truly Scrumptious)
How much I long to be free (And if I seem presumptuous)
Turning around on this music box that’s (Never, never, ever)
Wound by a key. (Go away)
Yearning (My heart beats so unruly)
Yearning (because I love you truly)
While I’m ( Honest, Truly)
Turning around and around. (I do)
Chu-chi face
You’re my little chu-chi face
My coo-chi, coo-chi, woo-chi little chu-chi face
Every time I look at you I sigh
And you’re my little teddy bear
My lovey lovey dovey little teddy bear
You’re the apfel strudel of mine eye
Your chu-chi woo-chi nose
Your chu-chi woo-chi eyes
They set my heart a flutter
Your ooo-chi coo-chi ways
Your ooo-chi coo-chi gaze
Wilts me down like meltings butter
You’re my little chu-chi face
And you’re my teddy bear
Together we’re a chu-chi woo-chi, ooo-chi coo-chi pair
Whatever you may ask becomes my happy task
I only live to serve you
I never will divine what magic made you mine
I only know I don’t deserve you
You’re my little chu-chi face
And you’re my teddy bear
Together we’re a chu-chi woo-chi, ooo-chi coo-chi
Chu-chi, Woo-chi, Ooo-chi, Coo-chi pair
Chu-chi
Woo-chi
Ooo-chi
Coo-chi pair
Thank heaven for little girls
Each time I see a little girl
Of five or six or seven
I can’t resist a joyous urge
To smile and say
Thank heaven for little girls
For little girls get
Bigger every day
Thank heaven for little girls
They grow up in
The most delightful way.
Those little eyes
So helpless and appealing
When they were flashing
Send you crashing
Through the ceiling
Thank heaven for little girls
Thank heaven for them all
No matter where,
No matter who
Without them
What would little boys do
Thank heaven
Thank heaven
Thank heaven for little girls.
I’m glad I’m not young anymore
Poor boy!
Poor boy!
Down hearted and depressed and in a spin
Poor boy!
Poor boy!
Oh, youth can really do a fellow in!
How lovely to sit here in the shade
With none of the woes of man and maid
I’m glad I’m not young anymore.
The rivals that don’t exist at all.
The feeling you’re only two feet tall.
I’m glad that I’m not young anymore.
No more confusion
No morning-after surprise.
No more self delusion
That when you ‘re telling those lies
She isn’t wise…
And even if love comes through the door
The can that goes on forevermore.
Forever more is shorter than before.
Oh, I’m so glad that I’m not young anymore.
The tiny remark that tortures you
The fear that your friends won’t like her too
I’m glad that I’m not young anymore
The longing to end the stale affair
Until you find out she doesn’t care
I’m glad that I’m not young anymore.
No more frustration
No star-crossed lover am I
No aggravation
Just one reluctant reply
“Lady, goodbye!”
The fountain of youth
Is —
Methuselah is my patron saint
I’ve never been so comfortable before
Oh, I’m so glad that I am not young anymore!
I remember it well
We met at nine
We met at eight
I was on time
No, you were late
Ah yes, I remember it well.
We dined with friends
We dined alone.
A tenor sang
A baritone.
I remember it well.
That dazzling April moon!
There was none that night.
And the month was June
That’s right, that’s right.
It warms my heart
To know that you
Remember still
The way you do
Ah yes, I remember it well.
How often I’ve thought of that Friday–
Monday–
Night, when we had our last rendezvous
And somehow I foolishly wondered if you might
By some chance be thinkin’ of it too
That carriage ride
You walked me home
You lost a glove
I lost a comb
Ah yes, I remember it well.
That brilliant sky!
We had some rain
Those Russian songs
From sunny Spain
Ah yes, I remember it well.
You wore a gown of gold
I was all in blue
Am I getting old?
Oh no, not you!
How strong you were
How young and gay
A prince of love
In every way
Ah yes, I remember it well