I love Christmas but I’m glad it only comes once a year. If it came more often than once a year I could become a Sumo wrestler because of the massive weight gain that results from my over consumption of all the great food. I also become disoriented at Christmas especially when it is on a weekday. I think everyday is Sunday and it takes me a couple of weeks to get straightened out. My emotions also take a beating. At times. I’m sad thinking of Christmases past and relatives and friends who have passed on and at other times I’m happy when surrounded by grandkids and all the joy and excitement they experience. If the season was extended I would also become a pauper because of the depletion of my bank account from the expense of gifts and other charities. It’s almost enough to make me a Scrooge but since I’m afraid of ghost I’ll just remain the same and try to use the next few months to regain my bearings and restore my health and finances.
At Christmas, my mind always takes a trip to London in the time of Dickens and the Christmas Carol and also to Baker Street with one of my favorite characters, Sherlock Holmes. One of Arthur Conan Doyle’s best stories about the great detective was “The Adventures of the Blue Carbuncle” which took place during Christmas. This year a new blockbuster movie about Sherlock Holmes is on the big screen. The movie is great but the character of Holmes has been changed somewhat to be in keeping with our more violent age and to attract movies goers who are accustomed to explosions and other acts of violence. The movie does capture the brilliance of Holmes but it makes him more of a slob and a much less formal person. Doyle’s novels depicted Homes and Watson as reserved English gentlemen of the Victorian Age. The movie did portray the eccentric nature of Holmes, which is barely understandable to the modern world of today.
Although, I loved the movie I still prefer to curly up in an easy chair to follow the adventures of the great consulting detective the likes of which have never been duplicated since that magical time in London in 1895 when the fog rolled in, the sound of the hoof beats of the horses pulling a hansom on Baker Street was heard from the window, Mrs. Hudson was hurrying upstairs with food and drink, Watson was in armchair before the fire reading “The Lancet,” Holmes was conducting and experiment or playing the violin and footsteps were heard on the stairs followed by a knock on the door introducing the new client and a fantastic adventure to follow.
The world of Sherlock Holmes is something I have loved since childhood and still enjoy on the porch. This Christmas I was again able to visit Baker Street in 1895 through the modern movie version about my hero.