There has been some sadness within the last few weeks, quite a few well-known people have passed away, notably three people who had a huge impact on some aspect of my childhood.
Firstly, Bernard Cribbins was the voice of my childhood. I would always find such joy from listening to him on TV and on audio cassette, bringing some wonderful story to life. No one can forget Jackanory and The Wombles, but one of my other favourites was Moschops. He was someone who could just magically appear anywhere from Super Gran to Last of the Summer Wine, and it made me so happy as I have grown well into my adult years, seeing him in Doctor Who and Old Jack’s Boat. I don’t have any of my audio cassettes left – they were not built to last – but the one that I do remember, which was narrated by Bernard Cribbins was Bertie’s Escapade, (written by Kenneth Grahame and illustrated by Sandy Nightingale), in the first christmas editon of The Storyteller magazine from Marshall Cavendish. Everybody loves a christmas theme, and it was probably one of the magazines/cassettes that I read/listened to the most. To me, Bernard Cribbins’ voice meant great character, great humour, and comfort, and I am going to miss that very much.
We also, very sadly, lost Olivia Newton-John. What young girl has not spent at least a small part of her childhood singing and dancing to Grease? I’m not sure how old I was, maybe 10, I would watch it every Saturday, recorded on to VHS from the TV, rewinding and watching my favourite songs over and over again. I sang “Hopelessly Devoted To You” a lot, sadly, nowhere near as well as Olivia – she had such a beautiful voice. I didn’t really know much about Olivia outside of Grease, (there is a whole music career I’ve yet to discover, although I do quite like the version of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” performed with John Tavolta, which switched the lyrics around), other than we shared a birthday, and she always seemed as wonderful and warm as her character Sandy. It doesn’t matter how many other people come along and play Sandy in the future, it will always be Olivia’s role.
Finally, just a few days ago, we lost Raymond Briggs. This one hit me pretty hard. I do have a confession to make though, I didn’t own a copy of The Snowman until I was in my thirties. Shocking, I know! And, what is more, I didn’t like the animation when I was a kid, but it was nothing to do with the story (which is pure brilliance), or the illustrations, or the animation, it was the damn song (no offence, Aled) – I did rather enjoy Father Christmas though. My real love and appreciation for Raymond Briggs, didn’t actually start until approximately 1992, when I was around 11 or 12, and I came across a copy of The Man (published by Julia MacRae Books), while I was spending some book vouchers, up on the first floor of WHSmith, in Coventry.
It has remained one of my favourite books ever since, and I pick it up to read or flip through, often, (Briggs and the Marshall Cavendish Storytellers, along with maybe a handful of other books are the reason I would love to create my own picture books, I feel like I always carry the magic of them inside me).
What I love about Briggs’ work is that his characters always feel so real and fleshed out, and his illustrations can express so much emotion either with or without words. His storytelling is exquisite. I love that as a reader, even when young, I never felt patronised him. His stories felt honest, and he wasn’t afraid of using humour and sadness within the same space, and that to me, felt like life, things aren’t always happy and colourful all of the time, but within sad moments, there can be some light, a smile and little moments to cherish.
In The Man, a peculiar, tiny, adult man appears in a boy’s room one night, naked and demanding to be dressed. He is rude and not the most likeable house guest, but he is also alone, and so tiny that he can’t do things for himself, and he needs help. I appreciated how Briggs examined friendship, building it up and tearing it down, incorporating themes of gratitude, responsibility, vulnerability, generosity, selfishness, companionship, anger and loss, and there was also so much humour. It is a story that makes you feel a thousand feelings, so you come out the other side a little beaten and weathered but grateful. Briggs put everything into his stories, absolutely everything, love, loss, and wisdom… whole lives, and he will be a huge loss.
Life is short, sing songs, draw pictures, and tell and share stories.