Christmas double issue

I've been longlisted for an award!

Instead of one main post, this is two separate shorter ones. Choose your own adventure!

Part 1: My ‘true flash’ award entry

Part 2: Christmas nostalgia

My ‘true flash’ award entry

You might remember I mentioned in My first 100 subscribers that this summer I entered some writing awards.

One of these awards was for True Flash Fiction. I wasn’t entirely sure what this was, but I’d recently come across ‘flash fiction’ and liked the idea of the 250 word limit. Particularly when staring down the barrel of 80,000 words, which seemed to be the amount needed for the memoir I’d boldly embarked on.

The ‘true’ element suggested that it was similar to a blog post, which felt very close to my comfort zone.

Flash wasn’t quite the answer to all my writing problems, but it was fun to try out for a bit. I entered four pieces into the Scottish Arts Trust’s Edinburgh True Flash Award, cringed about them for a few hours, then forgot all about them.

Well last week the longlist was announced and the one below, ‘Tips for crying in public’ made it! It didn’t make it any further unfortunately, but knowing there were 1,800 submissions was very cheering. I think this was the recognition and feedback I was seeking before I found it here on Substack.

I still think writing awards might be quite a good thing to try out though - has anyone else entered any? What are your thoughts? And what do you think of ‘flash’ writing - either reading or writing it? I know

Daniel Puzzo

and I have chatted about this before.

Anyway, here it is, and given the time of year, it might actually be helpful for some…

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Tips for crying in public

Sometimes, no matter how well stocked you are at home, there’s often an essential errand that interrupts a good home-based cry. Here are my tips for taking your brain out in public when you’d rather leave it tucked up in bed.

1. Stop off at a hotel with nice toilets

The ones where they have a pile of freshly laundered flannels designed for luxurious hand drying. Much better suited to mopping up tears. Guests - if you see any - are unlikely to bother you since they’re usually too busy bragging to each other about their recent room upgrade.

2. Walk around a train station

Because your distress will be mistaken for having just waved off a loved one. I mean, yes, you’d have to really love this person, and they’d have to be completely unavailable on Zoom or WhatsApp. (In many ways technology has killed the romance of this story before it’s even begun.)

The bigger station the better, because you can add a howl or two in if need be.

Aunt Edna is really special, remember.

3. Visit a museum

A perfect foil because we all know how easily moved you are by Caravaggio’s religious masterpieces.

While you’re there, contemplate the fact that all the greats were depressed and persuade yourself you’re just another tortured artist. In fact, you have so much in common with Van Gogh, Stephen Fry, Katy Perry et al that may as well be a museum exhibit yourself.

How post-modern of you.

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Christmas nostalgia

This post wouldn’t be complete without some Christmas nostalgia and thanks to the fact that social media knows me better than I know myself, I haven’t had far to look.

Fun fact

Slade’s Noddy Holder has revealed he wakes his wife up every Christmas morning by bellowing the iconic lyric "It's Christmaaaas". They’ve been married for 30 years…

True fact

Delia Smith is the best Christmas cook there is. Much more authentic than Nigella and her chilli fairy lights and metropolitan friends cluttering up the cold empty warehouse made to look like her kitchen.

In the early years, before she lost it with the “Let’s be ‘aving you” message to Norwich football fans, Delia was everyone’s safety mum. She measured things out by the teaspoon, wasn’t afraid to be a bit posh, and had great taste in knitwear. Antony Worrall Thompson called her "the Volvo of the kitchen"; Egon Ronay labelled her work "the missionary position of cooking". Boring? Yes, but in her 1990 Christmas cookbook she unleashed pigs in blankets on the world. Sometimes boring is good.

Christmas idents

If you want to get transported to Christmas in the 80s but don’t have a very long attention span then I can recommend revisiting this YouTube archive of the BBC’s Christmas idents from the 70s through to the 90s. If you’d care to check the 1984 and 1989 ones you’ll also see more evidence that these were the ‘5 years that changed the world’. (I won’t rest until you all agree with me on this.)

This one from 1984 is particularly good. I’m pretty sure this was the year that there was a children’s competition to design it. I remember vividly imagining what it would feel like to win. Sadly it wasn’t to be, although I did get a Blue Peter Badge the following year.

Side thought: If Noel Edmonds’ name wasn’t Noel, would we have had ‘Noel’s Christmas Presents’?

The Box of Delights

You might have noticed there are a lot of documentaries celebrating 40 years of things at the moment. Band Aid’s Do they know it’s Christmas, Wham!: Last Christmas: unwrapped etc. That’s because 1984 was a sensational year.

It’s also the year when The Box of Delights, the 1935 book by John Masefield, was adapted for childrens’ TV, which is why the series is now available on BBC iPlayer.

Thanks to my mum’s diligent recording of each episode onto VHS tape, my brother and I watched this endlessly, but despite all those reruns, it still feels as magical today as it did then. It has a stellar cast, great music (part classical, part electronic) and is daringly experimental for the time. It also inspired my love of the Edwardian period.

The computerised Christmas card

I never thought the last posting date (today) could seem modern and efficient until I stumbled across the below 1982 segment from the BBC archive.

The Blue Peter clip introduces a new concept - the computersied Christmas card - which includes "Lots of jolly music to get you in the festive mood" explains dishy Simon Groom.

The only trouble is it takes three weeks to program.

So as I take my humble pie off and extreme gratitude off with me to the post office queue, I'd like to say a big thank you for reading along with The Nostalgia Project this year. It’s truly been a blast - the camaraderie, feedback and general loveliness on this platform has given me a really boost and I look forward to more of it in 2025.

Merry Christmas!