"Christmas at Dingley Dell": Read by Gina Beck

Light up your holiday season with the enchanting narration of our guest, the brilliant Gina Beck as she transports us to the charm and warmth of a festive journey from Charles Dickens' Pickwick Papers in a way that is sure to stir the Christmas spirit in you.

Gina has been a star of London’s West End for nearly two decades playing the leads in Matlida, The Phantom of the Opera, Wicked & Les Miserables. Right now she can be seen in the current season of The Crown on Netflix.

Reading adapted from Chapter 28 of the Pickwick Papers by Dominic Gerrard …

Transcript

Dominic Gerrard: 0:13

Hi everyone. Welcome to the first of our Christmas specials this year on Charles Dickens' A Brain on Fire. Today I'm thrilled to have my wonderful friend, the inimitable Gina Beck, who is going to read us a good-humoured Christmas chapter. Gina has been a star of London's West End for nearly two decades, playing the leads in Matilda, the Phantom of the Opera, wicked and Les Miserables. Like now she can be seen in the current season of the Crown on Netflix. So wherever you are at this moment on a walk in the country, stuck in traffic stirring the Christmas pudding or lying awake worrying about the delivery of presents on time I hope you can now relax as Gina reads to us about a special Christmas at Dingley Dell, adapted from chapter 28 of the Pickwick Papers.

Gina Beck: 1:10

As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies. Did the four Pickwickians assemble on the morning of the 22nd day of December in the year of grace in which these their faithfully recorded adventures were undertaken and accomplished? Christmas was close at hand. In all his bluff and hearty honesty, gay and Merry was the time and right. Gay and Merry were at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming. Mr Pickwick and his friends, having walked their blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on. The paths were hard, the grass was crisp and frosty, the air had a fine, dry, bracing coldness, and the rapid approach of the grey twilight Slate-colored as a better term in frosty weather made them look forward with pleasant anticipation to the comforts which weighted them at their hospitable entertainers. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen in a lonely field to take off their great coats and play at leapfrog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety. And we firmly believe that had Mr Tuttman at that moment proffered a back, mr Pickwick would have accepted his offer with the utmost avidity. However, mr Tuttman did not volunteer any such accommodation and the friends walked on conversing merrily as they turned into a lane they had to cross, the sound of many voices burst upon their ears and before they had even time to form a guest to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of the party who were expecting their arrival. First there was Wardle, himself looking, if that were possible, more jolly than ever. Then there were Bella and her faithful trundle, and lastly there were Emily, in some eight or ten young ladies. They were one and all, startling the fields and lanes far and wide with their frolic and laughter. Mr Pickwick was joking with the young ladies who wouldn't come over the style while he looked or who, having pretty feet and unexceptional ankles, preferred standing on the top rail for five minutes or so, declaring that they were too frightened to move. It is worthy of remark too that Mr Snodgrass offered Emily far more assistance than the absolute terrors of the style, although it was full three feet high and had only a couple of stepping-stones would seem to require, while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair of boots with fur round the top was observed to scream very loudly when Mr Winkle offered to help her over. All this was very snug and pleasant, but if they were social and happy outside the house. What was the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm. The very servants grinned with pleasure at the sight of Mr Pickwick, and Emma bestowed a half-to-mure, half-impedant and all-pretty look of recognition on Mr Tutman, which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the passage unfold his arms and clasp her within them.

Gina Beck: 3:56

The old lady was seated with customary state in the front parlour, but she was rather cross and by consequence, most particularly death. She never went out herself, unlike a great many other old ladies of the same stamp. She was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason if anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldn't. So bless her old soul. She sat as upright as she could in her great chair and looked as fierce as might be. "'mother', said Mr Wardle. "'mr Pickwick, you recollect him'. "'never mind', replied the old lady with great dignity. "'don't trouble Mr Pickwick about an old creature like me. Nobody cares about me now and it's very natural they shouldn't' here.

Gina Beck: 4:36

The old lady tossed her head and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress with trembling hands. Come, come, mom", said Mr Pickwick. I can't let you cut an old friend in this way. I've come down expressly to have a long talk and another rubber with you, and we'll show these boys and girls how to dance a minuet before they're eight and forty hours older". The old lady was rapidly giving away, but she did not like to do it all at once, so she only said Ah, I can't hear him Oncense. Mother said, wardle, come, come, don't be cross, there's a good soul. Recollect Bella, come. You must keep her spirits up, poor girl.

Gina Beck: 5:13

The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son said it. But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought round yet. So she smoothed down the lavered-in-coloured dress again and, turning to Mr Pickwick, said Ah, mr Pickwick, young people was very different when I was a girl, no doubt of that. Mom, said Mr Pickwick, and that's the reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the old stock. And saying this, mr Pickwick gently pulled Bella towards him and, bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade has sit down on the little stool at her grandmother's feet, whether the expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old lady's face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr Pickwick's affectionate good nature or whatever was the cause. She was fairly melted, so she threw herself on her granddaughter's neck and all the little ill humour evaporated in a gush of silent tears.

Gina Beck: 6:11

A happy party they were that night. The old lady was in a state of a great grandeur, for she was sitting at the top of the table with her newly married granddaughter on one side and Mr Pickwick on the other. Mr Pickwick had not spoken in a very loud tone, but she understood him at once and drank off a full glass of wine to his long life and happiness. After which the worthy old soul launched forth into a minute and particular account of her own wedding, with a dissertation on the fashion of wearing high-heeled shoes and some particulars concerning the life and adventures of the beautiful Lady Tollinglower deceased. At all of which the old lady herself laughed very heartily indeed, and so did the young ladies too, for they were a wondering among themselves what an earth grandma was talking about when they laughed. The old lady laughed ten times more heartily and said that these had always been considered capital stories, which caused them all to laugh again and put the old lady into the very best of humours.

Gina Beck: 7:10

Then the cake was cut and passed through the ring, the young ladies saved pieces to put under their pillows, to dream of their future husbands on, and a great deal of blushing and merriment was there by occasion. Then came the tea and coffee and then the ball. If anything could have added to the interest of this agreeable scene, it would have been the remarkable fact of Mr Pickwick's appearing without his gators for the first time within the merry of his oldest friends. You mean to dance, said Wardle. Of course I do, replied Mr Pickwick, don't you see? I'm dressed for the purpose.

Gina Beck: 7:43

Mr Pickwick called attention to his speckled silk stockings and smartly tied pumps. You and silk stockings, exclaimed Mr Tuckman jacocously. And why not, sir? Why not? Said Mr Pickwick, turning warmly upon him. Oh, of course. There is no reason why you shouldn't wear them, responded Mr Tuckman. I imagine not, sir. I imagine not, said Mr Pickwick in a very peremptory tone. Mr Tuckman had contemplated a laugh but he found it was a serious matter. So he looked grave and said they were a pretty pattern.

Gina Beck: 8:17

Up struck the two fiddles and the one harp. Away went Mr Pickwick hands across down the middle to the very end of the room and half we up the chimney back again to the door. It was a pleasant thing to see Mr Pickwick in the centre of the group, now pulled this way and then that. But it was a still more pleasant thing to see Mr Pickwick, blinded, shortly afterwards, with a silk handkerchief, falling up against the wall and scrambling into corners and going through all the mysteries of Blind Man's buff the utmost relish for the game until at last he had to evade the Blind man himself, which he did with a nimbleness and agility that elicited the admiration and applause of all beholders.

Gina Beck: 8:53

When they all tired of Blind Man's buff, there was a great game at Snapdragon. And when fingers enough were burned with that and all the raisins were gone, they sat down by the huge fire of blazing logs to a substantial supper and a mighty bowl of wassail in which the hot apples were hissing and bubbling. With a rich look and a jolly sound that were perfectly irresistible, up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the logs were stirred. The deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow that penetrated into the furthest corner of the room and cast its cheerful tint on every face.

Gina Beck: 9:28

"'how it snows', said one of the men in a low tone. "'snoze doesn't' said Waddle. "'rough, cold nights, sir', replied the man. And there's a wind got up that drifts across the fields in a thick white cloud.

Gina Beck: 9:40

"'what does Jerm say', inquired the old lady. "'there ain't anything. The matter is there' "'No, no', mother, replied Waddle. "'he says there's a snowdrift and a wind that's piercing cold. "'i should know that by the way it rumbles in the chimney' "'Ah', said the old lady. "'there was just such a wind and just such a fall of snow. A good many years back, I recollect. "'just five years before your poor father died, it was a Christmas Eve too. "'i remember that on that very night he told us the story about the goblins that carried away old Gabriel Grubb'. "'the story about what' said Mr Pickwick? "'oh, nothing, nothing' replied Waddle, about an old sexton, the good people down here supposed to have been carried away by goblins. "'suppose', ejaculated the old lady. "'is there anybody hardy enough to just believe it? "'haven't you heard ever since you were a child that he was carried away by the goblins? And don't you know he was'? "'very well, mother he was, if you like', said Waddle, laughing. "'he was carried away by goblins, pickwick, and there's an end of the matter'".