#thematthewreview

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I ship Dan and Susie and their three little ones���������� like I do Matthew and Mary. I totally agree with you!

@thematthewreview

(Hello there!  My dear HRHCuteCupcake, you have been such a good shipper this year!  I am so happy to present to you part one of my new Christmas tale of Matthew, Mary and many other characters as youngsters performing a Nativity play in Downton Village.   Wishing you the very happiest of Christmases, I remain, your ever loving Secret Santa, Elizabeth at The Matthew Review.)

The Downton Parish Christmas Programme

The ladies of the Downton St. Luke’s Parish Auxiliary had been very glad as well as very fortunate when Mrs. Isobel Crawley arrived in the village with her 8 year old son, Matthew, and moved into Crawley House.  Isobel had been the President of St. John’s Parish Auxiliary back in Manchester, and during the good times when her husband was still alive she had been quite active.  Young Matt - who by the time our story truly begins insisted that he was now too old to be called ‘Matty’ - had also been a contented little fellow, his father’s pride and joy.  Mother and son had now lived in Downton Village for just over two years, and had relatives on Dr. Reginald Crawley’s side headed by a landless peer who lived in a small manor house on the other side of the village with his wife, his mother, and three little girls who were indeed a handful.

Christmas was coming soon, and St. Luke’s hummed with activity that had begun just a few weeks beforehand.   The highlight of the year was the Nativity Play put on by the children of the church - basically every child in Downton Village under the age of 12.  Pretty little Lavinia Swire, the daughter of the town solicitor, was chosen to play Mary, and it had been been a hard choice between Evelyn Napier and Matt Crawley for the part of St. Joseph.  But our Lord’s mother and His guardian were non-speaking roles, and Matthew, though he was as shy as he had been ever since his father’s death, got the minor but important role of the first shepherd to see the Star of Bethlehem, with a very important speech, because he was so tall and both his eyes and his voice were so clear and beautiful.  A role that might bring the lad out of his shell…

A few other important roles were played by older children, about Matt’s age.  The younger children made up two unison choirs, the little shepherd boys and the little angel girls.  This meant that all three of Robert and Cora Crawley’s daughters had the same costume, the same wings, the same haloes, and the same songs to sing….

’That’s my book, Mary!’  5 year old Edith lifted her shrill little voice when she saw her 6-year old sister open the neat cardboard cover of a prop that looked like a book of Christmas carols.

’No, it’s not.  You spilled chocolate milk on yours,’ Mary replied.  ‘And you know it.’

‘I did not!’  Edith cried, reaching for Mary’s ‘book’ and grabbing it. ‘It was an acid…  an acid….an acid-dint.’

Little tiny Sybil walked up to her sisters, picking up her skirt so that her pretty new tights showed completely.  She looked so completely innocent that their Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Hughes, had to stifle a chuckle.  The smallest Crawley let go of her skirt, and it fell properly, as she piped up.

‘Chock-it miw’k?’

’No, no, Sybil.  There will be chocolate milk at home.  Now we are angels,’ Mary replied, putting the ‘book of carols’ down.

‘Ayn-dills?  Mawee, what’s an ayn-dill?’

‘Angels are people in Heaven that fly like birds, Sybbie.  So we get to pretend we can fly.’

’Tibbie fwy wike biwdee!  Yay!’

And little Syble picked up her skirt and ran across the varnished wooden floor, laughing for joy, crying,

’Tibbie biwdee!  Tibbie biwdee!’

In her childish flight of fancy, even as Mary and Edith fought once more over who should have the nicest looking cardboard carol book, the little bird-girl just about flew into a certain tall, blue eyed shepherd boy trying to memorise the passages from the Gospel of St. Matthew that had been assigned to him.

‘Well, hallo there!  You must be an angel,’ young Matthew said, realizing how tiny she was and that their collision was surely an accident.

‘Me biwdee!  Me Tibbie Cwawwee,’ the 2 year old replied, her eyes like saucers, and blue like Matt’s.

‘I’m Matthew Crawley.  I’m a shepherd boy.  And you must be my little cousin.  I think I saw you when you were a baby.’

‘You a Maff’yew Cwaw-wee?  Hawwo, Maff’yew Cwaw-wee.’

Little Sybil smiled at her big cousin from Manchester, and shook her ‘chock-it’ curls.  

‘Now where are your Mama and your older sisters?  Let’s go find them, shall we?’

As Matt was not strong enough to pick up a two-year old and carry her for long, he took the child’s little hand and trusted her to lead the way.  Surely they were nearby….

‘… You are so mean, Mary!  I hate you!’  Edith shouted, shoving her.  ‘Just because you are the oldest doesn’t mean you get your way!’

‘I’m smarter than you are, Edith,’ Mary replied, slapping her.  ‘So I’m right.  And you’re wrong.  And I’m your sister, so you can’t hate me.’

And a tall, smartly dressed brunette lady walked quickly up to them from the other side of the room.  This was their mother, Cora.

‘Mary Josephine!  Edith Susanne!  What is going on here?  You are misbehaving in church!’

The two girls instantly became downcast, and said in unison,

‘Sorry, Mama…’

‘That’s not good enough. Be sorry to each other, too.  You are in a Christmas play, and I want you to behave from now on, is that clear?’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Now, apologise first, Mary, because you’re the older sister.’

Edith smirked a little, yet Cora gave her a stern look indeed.

‘I’m sorry, Edith.’

‘Now, it’s your turn, Edith Crawley.  You need to be grown up, too.’

‘Yes, Mama.  I’m sorry, Mary.’

‘Now then,’ asked Cora, ‘where did your baby sister go?’

At this, Matthew, who had been holding back with Sybil, made his way to the other sisters.

‘Are those your big sisters?’  he asked Sybil, not letting go of her hand as he looked at raven-haired Mary and ginger-curled Edith.

‘Yeth, Maff’yew,’ Sybil said.  ‘Mawee and Ee-diff.  And dat-th my Mama.’

‘Thank you, little cousin,’ the boy smiled and indicated her to her mother.

Cora looked the handsome little fellow up and down; Matthew Crawley was taller than when she had last seen him.  Sheepish and blushing, the lad bowed his head.

‘You must be Cousin Matthew.  Hallo, Matthew.  We haven’t seen you for a while!  I suppose we’ve all been so busy…’

‘Hallo, Cousin Cora.  It’s nice to see you.’

Young Matthew, definitely being appraised by his more aristocratic relation, gave her a nervous smile.

‘I see you’ve run into Sybil.  Do you remember your other cousins, Mary and Edith?’

‘I do…’ Matthew replied, not daring to breathe the further admission that his recollection was vague at best.

Hi there! Thanks!

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Reading just about anything

Stargazing (and boring everyone talking about this or that star)

Karate

Floating around in the water when it’s hot 

Some time ago, I was tagged by notallmalfoys, so here are my answers. (Sorry so late; I’ve been travelling quite a bit).

Rules: 1) always post these rules; 2) answer the questions given by the person who tagged you and give 11 questions for the blogs you tag and; 3) tag 11 people.

1. What’s your favorite food? My favourite food is cheese – any cheese except for feta (which I despise with the heat of a 1000 burning suns).  My favourite meal would be a nice cheese and fruit plate with a good wine.

2. What’s your least favorite book and why? Twilight, I suppose – although since I could not even finish the first book, I am not sure that it counts.  Way too melodramatic and I don’t like how the book romanticises stalking and control.  For a book that I actually finished, it would be The Ambassadors by Henry James.  I know it is a classic and it’s Henry James, but I just did not like it at all.  I can’t really explain why.

3. What did you want to be when you grow up? A hundred things at different points – marine biologist, veterinarian, writer, teacher.  I have a PhD in English and was a composition teacher for a long time before moving into the research fields, so I suppose that I achieved some of that.

4. Do you believe in superstitions? If so, which ones? No, none at all.  As I child, I used to believe that you had to hold your breath while driving past a cemetery at night, because the dead would rise jealous of your breath.

5. What books are you reading right now? Les Cent jours by Dominique de Villepin, Life of Pi by Yann Martel, and Waterloo: The Decisive Victory by Nick Lipscombe

6. Have you seen your childhood/high school crush grown up? If so, do you think he/she is still attractive/a cool person? I moved around quite a bit between different places in Canada and the UK, so I don’t think I have.

7. Which celebrity would you want to meet? For purely shallow reasons, I would want to meet Tom Hiddleston.  I adore him and he seems like a lot of fun.  Also …. Loki!  That is justification enough.

But, I also have a habit of developing crushes on long-dead people.  If I included those, I would have to go with Louis XIV of France and Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington.  Oh, I almost forgot – Camille Desmoulins.  I cannot choose between these three.

8. What do you plan to be for Halloween this year? Or, what would your ideal costume be? Hmmm … I haven’t done that in years.  I used to want to dress up as Anne Shirley so I’ll go with that.  Or maybe Dr. Julia Ogden from Murdoch Mysteries.  I love her wardrobe and she is awesome.

9. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Graduate school and life has taught me not to do that.  Hopefully, I will have a non-granted funded position at a uni, so that I can go back to teaching partially.  And my personal life will be more settled and at peace.

10. What is the meaning behind your tumblr URL? Ladyendymion was my first fanfic alias and I still use it on other sites.  It is taken from John Keats’s poem “Endymion”

11. What’s your favorite season? Autumn, or alternatively, the hockey season   Go Leafs! (so hopeful about Babcock as Coach)

My Questions: 1. If money were no object, where would you live? Why? 2. What is your favourite film? 3. What is the first book that you read as a child that you really loved? 4. Do you follow sports, and if so, do you have a favourite team? 5. What couple from what fandom is your OTP of all OTPs? (doesn’t have to be a canon pairing) 6. In which Hogwarts House would you be sorted? 7. Do you have a pet?  What kind? 8. What television shows are you currently watching? 9. Beatles or Rolling Stones? 10. Do you have a favourite historical time period? 11. If you had 3 wishes granted to you, how would you use them?  One wish has to be spent selfishly.

(Chorlton-cum-Hardy, Manchester, 1970.  Home of Dr. and Mrs. Matt Crawley and their three year old boy, Billy.  This occurs several years after the beginning of The Beautiful Game is Played, and may be seen as a supplement to that fanfic.  A blessed Christmas to you, with best wishes from The Matthew Review!)

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A very, very small, blond boy with very big blue eyes had just awakened from his afternoon nap, and now toddled towards his family’s living room, behind his mother.

’I told you, my boy, that there was going to be a big surprise in here…  I think it’s ready now!  Are you excited?’  Mary Crawley asked her son with a genuine smile.

‘Yes, Mummy, I am…’  Billy said, quite excited indeed.  ‘Is it for Christmas?’

‘Let’s have a look, Billy, and see what is in here now, shall we?’

The sound of a home football game on the television could be heard just outside the living room door as Mary opened it.  There inside, she saw her husband, Dr. Matthew Crawley, standing back to see if the fairy lights on a fir tree had been evenly distributed.  An expression of scrutiny upon his handsome face changed immediately to a big smile at the sight of his little son, whose look of open-mouthed amazement remained.   

‘Hallo, Billy boy!  How’s my little chap this afternoon?’  Matt asked, opening his arms wide.

Billy practically tumbled into his father’s arms, having rushed headlong for him.  Matt swept him up off the floor, making sure he could face the tree.  At the moment, there were only fairy lights upon it and the fresh scent of fir about it.

‘Daddy!  It’s a Christmas tree!’  the boy said in a voice full of awe at the sight.

Indeed it was a foot taller than Dr. Crawley, which would make an impression on the child.   Mary drew closer to her husband and their son, and looked into Matt’s eyes.  The game between United and the Bolton Wanderers went on in the background.  

‘So what do you think, sweetheart?  Can we start putting the tinsel and the ornaments on the tree?’  

‘Yes indeed, Matthew!  And shall we let Billy help with that?’

‘Of course…  but let’s ask him.  Billy, would you like to help us decorate our tree?’

‘Yes!  Please, Daddy…’

‘Of course you may.  We shall have to see what to put on first…’

‘… and it’s Charlton moving forward on the pitch.  Close to the goal…  an assist from Law, right past McAllister…  can he do it?’

‘Daddy, is that Noonited on the telebision set?’ Billy asked then.

‘Yes, son, that’s United playing.  Do you know their names already?’  Matthew marvelled.

‘… and Charlton scores!  With 18 minutes left, it’s Manchester United 2, Bolton Wanderers 0…  ‘

‘Cha..rel…ton….’  Billy said then.  ‘He is in Noonited, Daddy!’

‘And he has scored, hasn’t he?  You are a good supporter!  That’s what I like to see, Billy…’  Matthew smiled.

After all these years, Matt’s loyalty to United had not ever flagged, though his boyish hopes had been dashed so long ago by injury.  He now treated the injuries of anyone who played for Manchester United, its Youth Academy and its soccer schools as a dedicated orthopaedic surgeon, while also specialising in pediatric orthopaedics.  And he had long since made peace with the past, happier now with his beloved Mary and his boy than he could have imagined.

‘My darling boy, we need to get busy and decorate the tree before your Nana Isobel comes for dinner!  Let’s find some ornaments and some tinsel with your Mummy, shall we?’

In about a half hour, by which time Denis Law had scored the winning goal for United and the game had ended, Billy Crawley had found all the angels and stars and Saint Nicholases for his parents and told them where to put them on each branch, and declared the jolly old elf with the rosy cheeks his favourite ornament of all.

‘Hurrah!  We did it, Mummy!’ the boy declared to Mary from his perch in Matthew’s loving arms.

‘We certainly did, didn’t we?’  Mary replied, kissing both Billy and Matthew on the cheek.  

‘And probably just in time, my love,’ Matthew said to Mary quietly as the little boy in his arms began to squirm.  ‘Mother should be here any minute…’

‘It couldn’t be better, Matt…  we’ll all be together tonight for Christmas Eve.’

By then, Billy had his feet on the ground, and started to run towards a bird cage in the corner of the living room;  two little budgies had begun to make a racket, fascinating the child.  And Mary and Matt, fascinated as ever with each other, didn’t need any mistletoe above their heads in order to kiss.

‘I love you, Dr. Crawley.’

‘I love you, Mrs. Crawley.

The birds twittered and rubbed their beaks together excitedly, as Billy watched for a moment.

‘Mummy!  Daddy!  The birdies are kissing each other too!’

Matthew and Mary strolled over to the bird cage, arm in arm.

‘Yes, I believe they are…’  Mary smiled at their boy, with a little chuckle that became contagious to all three.

There came a knock on the front door, which meant that Isobel Crawley had arrived, where she was always welcome, and never more so than at this blessed time of year.

‘It’s Nana Isobel!’  Billy cried out happily.  

‘It’s getting better and better all the time, isn’t it, Matthew,’ Mary said tenderly to her husband as she went to get the door.