Stella & Rose's Books

Are you a hylophobe?Or a bit of a tree-hugger?

Do you find forests places of fear and danger?Or places of peace and emotional healing?

Even the most cursory of glances reveals the pervasive influence of woods and forests in literature, legends and fairy tales. Sometimes the forest is a dark and forbidding place, full of hazards and unseen enemies that await the unfortunate individual who ventues within.

Examples include the Wild Wood from Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, where the frightened Mole is fortunate to stumble across the safety of Mr. Badger's sett, or the suffocating gloom of Mirkwood in Tolkien's The Hobbit, where Bilbo Baggins has to rescue the Dwarves from the attention of the giant scary, hairy spiders.

Stella & Rose's Books wish to thank Mr. John Gough for his kind submission of the following article

Magdalen Eldon wrote and illustrated three children’s picture-story books that feature a Pekinese dog called Bumble.

Bumble (1950)Snow Bumble (1951)Highland Bumble (1952)

Who is this Bumble? Bumble is a Pekinese dog, who happens to be half Chinese (of course, as a Peke) and half Scottish. Bumble also claims to be descendent of Sherlock Holmes, although none of the stories involve Bumble in solving mysteries, or smoking a pipe, or ….

Bumble lives with a large, lively family of mice, named Macmouse. They all live in Windwhistle Manor, a cosy hollow tree and old badger sett on a Devonshire moor, with a family of Scottish mice whose very many children have amazing names, a wise worm who lectures from an encyclopedia and an infestation of well-meaning beetles and some of the prettiest pictures ever made for children, or, perhaps, adults. Even the candy-striped book covers were delightful designs. Bumble 'owns' the tree/apartment house, and its farm, and the mice are his housekeeper tenants.

Aah, I just love a bit of Les Mis!

Do you hear the people sing,Singing the songs of angry men?It is the music of the peopleWho will not be slaves again!

It was thirty years ago this month that I exited the Palace Theatre in London with those lyrics reverberating through my head. As many other people have probably done before and since, I immediately resolved to tackle reading Victor Hugo's masterpiece.

The written narrative of the life of Jean Valjean in Les Miserables is magnificent and so very much more than is told in either the musical or any of the films. It is well known that the book comprises a daunting number of pages. At the time I had never attempted to read such a long work, but I found out something that made the book so much more accessible to me. Please don't tell anyone who told you this, but you really don't need to read every chapter! There are numerous sections of the book where Hugo makes rambling diversions, such as detailing the history of the Convent of Petit-Picpus or the building of the Parisian sewers. Some may consider it sacrilegious when I say that chapters such as these can be skimmed or even skipped altogether as the principal characters play no part in them whatsoever.

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An Aladdin’s cave for Booklovers. I think that is an apt description for the Special Book Room at Stella Books. On entering the shop door one is struck by the spaciousness and openness of the store but wait! To the left is a gate. Why? Can you not venture in? Of course you can. The gate signifies that you are entering a very special place - the area where all our most rare, fragile and valuable items are collected together. But unlike many bookstores most items are in plain sight, beautifully displayed on bookshelves, not locked away in glass cabinets making one afraid to ask to view.

I like stained glass and I've always wanted to have a go at making something out of it. So when I saw a course advertised locally, which was spread over 3.5 days and involved designing and making a stained glass panel, I jumped at the opportunity and eagerly booked a place.

I arrived for the first session on Saturday afternoon excited and anxious. Excited because I like to try new crafts (I've been on a few one day craft courses before) but equally anxious because I wasn't sure if I would have the necessary ability or skill.

So after introductions our excellent teacher gave us a brief insight into making stained glass panels, the tools and techniques used and some instruction on cutting glass to shape. We were then let loose on a piece of clear glass. If there was a prize for the first person to cut themselves I would have won. Having mastered, and I use that term loosely, glass cutting we had slides of our teacher's work and previous students' panels to give us inspiration. Homework was to decide on your design.

Let's talk about the weather! What a jolly British thing to do! We moan in the Winter when it is too cold, we moan in the Summer when it is too hot... is there no pleasing us? Nope! We are British!

Is it my imagination or are the Winters in Britain (specifically the South Wales area) becoming milder? I have a tortoise who hibernates every year in a double insulated box in the garage. His name is Zebedee (see the Magic Roundabout connection... he used to have a mate called Florence who is no longer with us). This Winter past I was watching the weather temperatures earnestly 'oh no, its not cold enough' (above 4C) 'oh no, it's too cold for him to be outside' (below 0C) – dash to the garage and bring his hibernating box into the unheated conservatory! Roll on Spring when he finally wakes up, albeit early, and take a huge sigh of relief!

The hesitation at the door, the hopeful smile, and then the inevitable question: "Do you buy books?"

Oh... if only I was witty and quick.... the answers I could give! "No, we prefer to steal them - although it's increasingly frowned on". "No, we write them". "No, they are all from the library down the road..." Oh, if only we could sometimes be like the Black Books television series!!

We are a secondhand book business. We need stock. So, of course we buy books! Secondhand bookshops come in a whole variety of shapes and sizes but all need stock if they are to survive and therefore I believe that they do all buy books! Someone please correct me if I'm wrong!

Writers have been inspired for centuries by the natural landscapes of Wales and it is easy to see why. Majestic peaks, rugged coastlines, sweeping bays, rolling hills, waterfalls, caves and lakes, magical river valleys and forests have inspired Welsh writers for centuries and in turn have helped the Welsh define how they think of their country. Pride and passion are evident in the art, music, poetry and literature.

The National Eisteddfod is the largest and oldest celebration of Welsh culture dating back to 1176 when it is believed the first one was held. There are three ceremonies during Eisteddfod week:-

Once the Christmas festivities are over and winter is well into its stride, it is a consolation to know that the days are getting longer.

Each day there is an evergrowing glimmer of daylight, a hint to the changing of the seasons. The postie arrives at 5pm every day to pick up our parcels - and this too has gone from dark to light.

The next portent of Spring are the snowdrops, only a few at first, seemingly huddling together for warmth, their delicate heads nodding in the wind. Surely too cold for them to survive? But survive they do, and soon the verges and the forest floor are wearing a mantle of white.

The time in our lives had arrived where we could be free to take a new path in life, a new adventure.

My husband and I chose to tour the UK in an old motorhome. So I left work and told the family, it seemed important to me that they gave us their blessings.

We decided on a trial period to see if we would be compatible to this lifestyle, choosing three months and Scotland as our first destination. The first night in Scotland certainly tested us, the temperature fell to minus eight degrees and when we woke in the morning having had a really good nights sleep we found that even the toothpaste was sluggish to come out of its tube. It was stunning outside with deep drifts of snow, white coated hares in abundance and highland cattle munching contentedly on hay with their collective breaths creating a misty scene. We had electric hooked-up and the site owner came out in the morning to see if we had survived the night.

Happy New Year, or I should say Blwyddyn Newydd Dda as I am in Wales. 2018 has arrived. Do you look forward to the New Year? Do you take the optimistic view and wonder what 2018 has in store for you, what opportunities lie ahead, what new adventures will you have? Or the pessimistic line and dread what the new year will bring, what difficulties will there be, will you face challenges ahead? Or perhaps you are like me, and fluctuate between the two.

January is associated with Janus, a god in ancient Roman mythology. He is the god of beginnings and transitions and is usually depicted with two faces as he looks to the future and to the past. January 1st is the first day of the year on the modern Gregorian calendar. Amongst the first places to welcome in the New Year are Tonga, Samoa and Kiritimati or Christmas Island. Whilst the last few include American Samoa and Baker Island. I assume in the UK we must be somewhere near the middle.

Having just enjoyed an annual visit to one of the UK's larger Zoos, I thought I would investigate the origins and see what books on the subject that we have in stock here at Stella & Roses Books.

On looking at some online dictionary definitions under 'Zoo', the most popular is: 'An establishment which maintains a collection of wild animals, typically in a park or gardens, for study, conservation, or display to the public'. The term 'Zoo' started to be used in the mid 19th century and is an abbreviation of Zoological Gardens, originally applied specifically to that of Regent's Park in London.

In the late Terry Pratchett's Discworld, described as both a world and mirror of worlds, the race of trolls is unique in believing that all living creatures go through life backwards:

“Alone of all the creatures in the world, trolls believe that all living things go through Time backwards. If the past is visible and the future is hidden, they say, then it means you must be facing the wrong way. Everything alive is going through life back to front. And this is a very interesting idea, considering it was invented by a race who spend most of their time hitting one another on the head with rocks.”  Reaper Man

I returned from my last shopping expedition – an activity for which I typically have to work hard to summon any great enthusiasm – somewhat lighter of wallet but sporting four new neckties. I agree that these can hardly be classed as life's essentials, but I'm a sucker for a smart tie and a promotional offer. The wearing of ties may be in decline today but I still enjoy wearing a tie (almost) every day at work. But as I struggled to squeeze the new ties into the already bulging racks in the wardrobe, it struck me that I knew little about the history of neckties.

When did people start wearing ties?What did early ties look like?How has the fashion changed over the years?

One frosty November evening I was walking home with my son who was about seven years old. We were looking up into the night sky at the stars and I was trying to make out some of the constellations for him and he asked what stars were. My answer reflected both the need to keep it simple and also the fact that I had limited knowledge of the subject. I pointed out that our own sun is a star. I still remember his reaction to this news which was totally unexpected. He didn't want to hear it and he became upset because he found this too difficult to understand. He couldn't see how the sun (such a familiar thing) could be the same as the tiny twinkling dots in the night sky. Unfortunately it became very clear that I was not going to provide an explanation that could satisfy him.

I wonder if you watched and enjoyed, as I did, the recent television adaptation of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale. As disturbing as the portrait was, of a future society where women have little worth beyond childbearing, I was surprised to find that many online comments focussed on the Scrabble game played between the handmaid Offred and her Commander. 

Offred related, "Larynx, I spell. Valance. Quince. Zygote."To some viewers this seems beyond belief..."The least believable part of The Handmaid's Tale is their luck at Scrabble. Larynx? C'mon!!" and,"The Handmaid's Tale seriously strains credibility by having a Scrabble game end with a score of 386-383."

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This summer I've started to go to a new table tennis club in our local village hall. I hadn't played table tennis since I was a child and I don't think I'd ever played on a proper table. As children we had the net with fixings at either end that you could attached to your own table but as our kitchen table was more square than oblong and was against the wall on one and a half sides it wasn't always a fair game! I'm still learning the rules and techniques but I have managed to have a reasonable game, win a few points, stretch some muscles and have lots of laughs. Table tennis started in the 1880s as a parlour game for outdoor tennis players to play during the winter months. Over 130 years later it is still popular, there are a couple of thriving clubs within a few miles of home.

We recently purchased a lovely collection of children's books and in among the collection were some nice examples of Rag Books.

Rag books (or cloth books) for babies/toddlers were the creation of Henry Samuel Dean, a director of Dean & Son. Turning to the vexing problem of 'how to produce a genuinely indestructible children's book' he and a colleague turned their thoughts to a book produced on cotton cloth with a sewn binding.

Dean's published the first rag book “The Life of A Bold AB on his Ship in the Rolling C” in 1902 which was a great success. Realising that to produce rag books on a commercial scale would mean major alterations to the existing plant and machinery they decided to open new premises and start publication under an entirely new company – The Dean's Rag Book Company.

British seaside towns might not be the draw they once were, but I love them!

From Margate to Scarborough to Pittenweem in Fife, from Weymouth to Porthmadog and on to Blackpool.

The advent of cheap flights to Europe and beyond saw their decline, but it was the coming of the Railways as well as the 1871 Bank Holiday Act that saw them full to capacity.

Whole companies would close in the summer and their employees would flock to the seaside, there were even special trains laid on.

It is that time of year when all is hustle and bustle in the garden, weeding, late spring planting, watering, dead-heading flowers that have lost their early Spring grandeur.

Not in my garden I hasten to add – I hate gardening!

I hate the noise - the electric whine of a mower, the whirr of hedge-trimmers, the snick, snick, snick of wood-chippers.

There is always something to do! You never really seem to see people relaxing in their gardens.

So I look out of my kitchen window and think 'maybe next weekend' and content myself with the idea that I have created a haven for wildlife.