Glorious things to do ...

Over the weekend, I found a book I'd bought and forgotten about. This happens a lot as I frequently buy books I don't need. In this case, I couldn't have dug up 'Glorious Things To Do' by Rosemary Davidson at a better time. I originally bought it because it was cute and full of old-fashioned childhood pleasures, from fun science experiments (exploding Cola bottle or saucer rainbow, anyone?) to yummy things to cook (coconut ice and butterscotch) to nannarific skills (making a skirt and crocheting flowers).

Since my twenties have become the decade to make up for a 90s childhood, I snapped it up immediately. The pink cover didn't faze me, I actually thought it was quite sweet. Nor did the "What ho! Jolly good fun" tone. It's all a bit of a lark and some of the activities are actually quite useful to learn - I think those who balk at the idea of a book teaching little girls to sew are taking it all far too seriously. Learning homely skills does not equal you-must-stay-at-home-and-never-get-a-job. It's about learning to slow down and find entertainment away from TV and the Internet. It's not about recreating the 1950s - that's just ridiculous.

Anyway, seeing as I don't yet own a sewing maching (thus the gorgeous Meet Me At Mike's and Sew La Tea Do books probably aren't the wisest buys for the moment) I've decided that 'Glorious Things To Do' could be a sort of project book for me. I know it's aimed at young girls, but this is precisely why it's perfect for someone who's struggled to get things done and isn't very skilled at crafts - as the projects are for eight-year-olds, they're quick, simple and inexpensive. A great starting point, methinks.

I appreciate the book a lot more since reading the Milly-Molly-Mandy books (another childhood pleasure that passed me by). If Joyce Lankester Brisley had written a Milly-Molly-Mandy activity book, I'm sure it would have closely resembled Glorious Things To Do.

If you've never read an M-M-M book, you should find one at your local library and enjoy. The simple, innocent tales of a little country girl living in "the nice white cottage with the thatched roof" represent a long-gone era - where waking up early and writing letters to a pen-pal were huge events - and are the perfect cure for discontent. Yes they're twee, but only relative to the world we live in now. If that hasn't convinced you, read this article in The Guardian. Quotes below if you don't have time to click.

... each story is a miniature masterpiece, as clear, warm and precise as the illustrations by the author that accompanied them, crafted by a mind that understood the importance of comfort reading. Milly-Molly-Mandy leads a delightful existence in a pink-and-white striped dress. Her time is largely taken up with buying eggs for Muvver and Farver (these spellings are the closest Milly-Molly-Mandy comes to subversion), stripping village fete stalls of homemade cakes - courtesy of sixpences bestowed by munificent grandpas - and having picnics in hollow tree trunks with Little Friend Susan and Billy Blunt. You could ask for literally nothing more out of life ...

I think the power of Milly-Molly-Mandy to comfort and compel will endure. The stories are simple, not stupid. They provide succour, not sentimentality. And if they spark a flicker of yearning within a child for a lost world, you can always point out thay they only have to turn back to the first page for it to live again. That is what books are for.

Right, what glorious thing should I do first?