To Sleep and Back Again

Bilbo Baggins was a cantankerous old Hobbit. Contained within his Hobbit sized bunker, he was content to watch the world move by, until he was disturbed one evening by the old Wizard, Gandalf. From this point forward, Bilbo has swept along into a magical adventure, starring elves, men, dwarves, wizards and the odd Eagle. It was a treat to read.

The Hobbit was one of the first 'grown up' adventures that I was able to read. I remember looking forward each night to being offered 30 minutes of time with the light. Not in a perverse way, but in the way that a parent provides a child, in this case, the ten-year-old me, the opportunity to stay up before lights out. It was a treat and one that I relished.

From age ten I would love to head to bed early to read more of The Hobbit. It was a story that I have read multiple times during my life, yet that did not matter. In a similar vein to those classic TV shows, once you find something that you love, it is hard to put down. You find meaning behind new pages and pick out moments that you did not the first time around.

Teaching a Love of Books

The very first time in which I heard the Hobbit was aged nine. At this point in time, I was in year 4 at the local primary school and at the end of each week, we would read a story together. From Harry Potter to the Hobbit, we would spend thirty minutes reading a book together and if memory serves, then this was something that every teacher did. From reception to year 6, every teacher and class was able to finish the week by sitting in a circle, reading a book together. I say together as a collective, yet as the school children, we were able to put our feet off, allowing ourselves to be transported to another world.

Books were a factor in my life before school but my true love for them came from these class reads. Mainly through the enthusiasm of the teacher, but that is not important. I loved being around my friends, having no pressure to engage in the lesson, to be able to 'drift off' and let my imagination run wild. Books were great and I wanted to read as many as possible.

Tying Christmas and Middle Earth Together

The Hobbit was read to us at Christmas time. The reason that I remember this is that from this point it became a tradition. Every Christmas from age ten to twelve was filled with Bilbo's gluttony. You may not agree with me here, but for me, The Hobbit is the perfect Christmas read and despite and absence during my teenage and later, University years, many of my former traditions I have resurrected.

With my fiancee being required to wake early in the morning, she showers the night before. This provides me with half an hour every night in which to read. Sometimes it's Stephen King, sometimes it is the latest edition of Play magazine and during the month of Christmas it is The Hobbit. Much like watching, Love Actually, every Christmas time, The Hobbit is etched in my mind as the perfect festive read. Why?

It does not matter where or when for me, it is the core narrative and how that makes you feel. The Hobbit is a tale that was presented to me at Christmas time. It could be that the time and place of reading for the first time is what has stuck, but I do not believe that. Just like Die Hard is seen as a Christmas film, I would like to see The Hobbit considered as such.

It is an unexpected journey that takes the character on a journey of discovery. One that takes the form of a fantasy adventure but within all of this are core concepts that for me are Christmas related. Concepts such as comradery, reflecting on your life, receiving gifts and being with your loved ones.

The journey of discovery is still reflective of that which embodies Christmas. Regardless of whether the story is set in Middle Earth, London, or Neverland. The concepts of a Christmas tale, with the core being that of reflection are what is important to me.

A Continuing Tradition

A year after I heard The Hobbit read at a school I wanted to read it again. Using the 30 minutes of time which my Mum offered to me to fully explore the narrative. It was the alarm that signalled that Christmas was near. It is something that whilst there was a pause for a few years, I returned to gleefully. Exited to discover more and relive my youth, I have for the past ten years re-read at Christmas time.

In the same manner, as before, I snuggle into the covers and read for half an hour. Not because the lights need to be switched off and bedtime is here, but as my fiancee is rinsing herself before bed. Same book and tradition, yet different times.

You may be wondering why I have not included books that were read to me as a child here and there is a simple reason for this. I am an only child with one parent. My earliest memories are clouded like Bilbo's journey through the Mines of Moria. There are no memories which I hold of being read to as a child by my Mum. She may have done so, yet what sticks out is reading to myself. The desire to be alone, to be absorbed into the narrative with little to no disturbance was essential.

A Final Thought

A bedtime story does not need to be delivered by a parent. It can be something as simple as reading to yourself before bed. I am now 32 years old and still read to myself. The feeling of letting my imagination run wild is something that I relish still today. Whilst the reasons for heading to sleep early are not the same, the desire still exists. To pick up a narrative and be absorbed into the pages is undeniable.

The Hobbit is a tale of a lonely man being taken on an adventure. For the younger me it opened up possibilities and became a Christmas tradition. Away from the ghosts it still contained greed, the knowledge that those you hold close could be those that you meet on the road appealed to me.

Bedtime stories are great and my hope is that I can pass along some of the traditions which I have grown to love to my children. They do not exist yet, but just like the adventures of Bilbo, anything is possible.