I am winding down for Xmas: not an easy task when you are a workaholic, but it must be done. Some quality time with my offspring is called for. In the morning, I settle down sandwiched between daughters to watch Raymond Briggs’ classic animation “The Snowman”. After 25 years it is still one of the most beautiful, moving 25-minutes of childhood fanatasy, each handdrawn frame a work of art (indeed, my erstwhile neighbour in Crystal Palace drew many of the backgrounds, for which he won my eternal respect.) And as that percussion portends the heart of the story, the mesmerizing flight across the snowy English countryside, I still get tingles down the spine. “Walking In The Air” retains that sense of grandeur, pathos and perhaps also something unsaid and sinister, portending the snowman’s ineluctable melting the following morning, at which point I still get a lump in the throat. (As as asisde, I prefer the version in the animation rather than Aled Jones’s better known re-recording.)
It’s an amazing work of art, except for the Let’s Dance era, peroxide David Bowie prologue that now sounds hackneyed and dated. Terrestrial channels neatly amputate this introduction whenever they dust “The Snowman” down for the Festive season. In fact, I have nailed this precise moment when Mr. Bowie’s career melted as fast as the snowman himself.
Admittedly, I cannot help firing off a few work-related e-mails in the evening whilst watching an Oz Clarke program on traditional English beverages and their associated customs such as wassail and egg nog.
I think I’ll stick to my fermented grape juice, thanks all the same Oz.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: david bowie, raymond briggs, the snowman
