This year my birthmas present from "me to me" was a package of decaf P. G. Tips. I love coffee, but when I'm sick--and the sore throats have been piling up towards the end of this pregnancy thanks to the constant fluctuation of the weather and the fact that I'm tired and my immune system has gone to pot--when I'm sick, all I want is tea, endless cups of tea to be precise. And that was difficult because I'm only allowed limited amounts of caffeine, and my favourite tea was no where to be found in a decaffeinated version. So I found some online, bought it, and waited for it to arrive the week of my birthday. Incidentally, just in time for sore throat number 3.
This year my birthmas present from my best second sister was Elizabeth Goudge's The Little White Horse, which I had shamelessly hinted about wanting. The proof is in the blog. So this weekend as the Big Man studied away diligently (in spite of also having a cold), I drank tea and read The Little White Horse. Honestly, I think it would've been a bit sacrilegious to have read such a blatantly British book without tea, so it's a good thing that I gifted myself.
That said, I thoroughly enjoyed The Little White Horse, being somewhat of a sucker for British children's fantasy, and it was much better than the movie, which had taken out all the meat of the tale (it was probably too much for P.C. Hollywood to handle). An enchanting story that covered such interesting topics as generational sin and the idea of looking below the surface to find true value, it is one that should be in every children's library. The adults, though fallible, are worthy of respect yet don't mollycoddle the children. The children are capable of being heroes in their own right, though still dependent on wise advice from their elders. And there was plenty of food description, which if you enjoy British food (and I do, with certain exceptions--steak and kidney pie did me in) will probably make you hungry. At any rate, I can understand why several of my most read authors rank The Little White Horse on their list of favourites: it was absolutely charming.
This year my birthmas present from my best second sister was Elizabeth Goudge's The Little White Horse, which I had shamelessly hinted about wanting. The proof is in the blog. So this weekend as the Big Man studied away diligently (in spite of also having a cold), I drank tea and read The Little White Horse. Honestly, I think it would've been a bit sacrilegious to have read such a blatantly British book without tea, so it's a good thing that I gifted myself.
That said, I thoroughly enjoyed The Little White Horse, being somewhat of a sucker for British children's fantasy, and it was much better than the movie, which had taken out all the meat of the tale (it was probably too much for P.C. Hollywood to handle). An enchanting story that covered such interesting topics as generational sin and the idea of looking below the surface to find true value, it is one that should be in every children's library. The adults, though fallible, are worthy of respect yet don't mollycoddle the children. The children are capable of being heroes in their own right, though still dependent on wise advice from their elders. And there was plenty of food description, which if you enjoy British food (and I do, with certain exceptions--steak and kidney pie did me in) will probably make you hungry. At any rate, I can understand why several of my most read authors rank The Little White Horse on their list of favourites: it was absolutely charming.
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