Posts with the Bob Cratchit tag

Barris Beat

What’s a Family Day worth?

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
In 1951  film A Christmas Carol, Scrooge (Alastair Sim) ridicules Cratchit (Mervyn Johns) about expecting both a day off and full-day’s pay.

In the canon of English literature, it’s not the zenith of composition. It doesn’t resonate like a Shakespearean soliloquy, or crackle like Jane Austen dialogue, or whisk you away like a magical J.K. Rowling passage. But, for my money, the exchange between Scrooge and Bob Cratchit, in A Christmas Carol, says everything about our times.

“You’ll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?” whines Scrooge, anticipating his clerk’s desire to have Christmas Day off.

“If quite convenient, sir,” pleads Cratchit.

“It’s not convenient and not fair,” snorts Scrooge, “You don’t think me ill-used, when I pay a day’s wages for no work.” (more…)

Barris Beat

A Dickens of a story

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
Church of the Ascension, immediately after our reading of A Christmas Carol, Dec. 3, 2017.

I found Christmas over in Port Perry last Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t alone. And, no, there wasn’t a sudden conversion in my life. But I was in a church. A few minutes after 3 p.m., last Sunday, I was invited to a lectern to initiate a fundraiser with these words:

“Marley was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that. … Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.” (more…)

Barris Beat

The point of it all

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
XXX plays Bob Cratchit in the 1951 movie version of A Christmas Carol.
Mervyn Johns plays Bob Cratchit in the 1951 movie version of A Christmas Carol.

I’ve been thinking about a mythical, historical Christmas dinner lately. It’s the one that featured a cooked goose, hissing gravy, mashed potatoes, the gush of stuffing, two small children gorged in sage and onion to the eyebrows, and a pudding regarded as the greatest success achieved by the housewife since the beginning of her marriage. But it’s the Christmas toast proposed by the man of the house, I’ve remembered this week.

“I’ll give you Mr. Scrooge,” announced Bob Cratchit in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, “the founder of the feast.”

“Such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling man as Mr. Scrooge,” Mrs. Cratchit scowls. And then she relents at her husband’s insistence, “I’ll drink his health for your sake and the Day’s.”

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