Tag Archives: Snowmen

On the 5th, 6th, 7th and 8th Days of Christmas…

After a brief delay in posting while I was out of internet access, here are the last few days of posts on the 12 Days of Christmas:

5th Day of Christmas:

Thanks to John for today’s inspiration, another cheery view of Christmas!

A time for Mums to get frazzled in the kitchen?

I poked at the turkey and juices eased up over the fork then drizzled down the sides onto the plate. The sprouts were boiling away happily to themselves – Jane always said she ought to put them on the night before, just to be certain they were done, but I suggested that to Mum and she said she thought it was a joke. She said no more than 8 minutes. They have already been on for ten but if I turn them off they’ll go cold.

I had hoped Mum might come over and cook for us, but she seemed to think I needed to do my first Christmas without Jane with just the boys. So there I was in the kitchen, poking the turkey and trying not to throw the whole thing on the floor when the pan spat hot fat onto my arm. Leon walked in just as I let out a word he shouldn’t hear.

“Daddy, can we open presents yet?”

I put down the pan and picked him up. “Sure. Which one do you want to open first?”

“We can’t start,” said James from the hallway. “Mummy isn’t here yet.”

Dealing with the non-existence of Santa Claus with an eight year old without his little brother finding out isn’t easy in a one bedroom flat. Explaining that Mummy doesn’t love Daddy anymore is about a hundred times worse.

 

6th Day of Christmas:

Thanks Victoria for today’s inspiration, which was a really challenge, but made me laugh out loud! Since it’s Friday I’ve stuck to the 100 word limit, although that doesn’t include the title, which is Victoria’s phrase.

This Christmas, I promised myself, I wasn’t going to throw chocolate sauce at the snakes. No matter what.

The first year was an accident. I was shaking the bottle and I didn’t realise that the cap was loose, or that my baby boa Flora was lounging on the couch. Last year it was deliberate, because Flora, now adult, had decided that my foot would do best to be starved of blood supply. I grabbed the bottle and poured it onto her head.

But now I know the proper way to free myself, I would like think I can get away without using the sauce. I keep a bottle by my bed though, just in case Flora gets lonely.

 7th Day of Christmas:

Thanks to John for the third in his collection of suggestions: What price indigestion tablets or hangover pills?

I’m standing in front of the bathroom cabinet trying to work out which packet to open first, and how to do it without taking my fingers out of my ears. It says on the “all round hangover treatment” pills that I can’t take them with either the painkillers or the indigestion pills. They also claim to be super strength and that I only need to take one. But then, they don’t know it’s Boxing Day morning, or that my niece hasn’t stopped screaming since the Queen asked God to bless us all, let alone what the stuffing is doing to my insides. Eventually I unshield my ears, rip two tablets out of each packet and swallow them with a shot of whisky. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and Her Maj has got the Almighty on my side.

 8th Day of Christmas:

No suggestions for the 1st of January, but as this is the Twelve Days of Christmas…

When it started, I was flattered. A partridge can be cooked and goes rather well with pears, and the tree looked nice in my bay window. Turtle doves sing beautifully, and having a pair saved them pining. I moved the first pair tree to one side of the window and placed the other in mirror to it. I sent the second partridge to Mother, who was very grateful. By day four, I was beginning to wonder if he had a thing about fowl. The French hens pecked around the back garden, and the doves still just about fitted in the cote. Uncle Laurie seemed perplexed by the partridge / pear tree combination, but not unhappy at the gift. But now it’s getting silly. It is just over a week since Christmas began, everyone I know has a pear tree in the window and a partridge in the stomach, the yard is awash with birds and there is absolutely nowhere to put more than a dozen milking maids. Tomorrow, he promises, will be the last day of Christmas. I have told him that, whether it is or not, it will be the last day of our relationship.

 9th Day of Christmas:

When they had balanced the head on top, the children took a step back.

“It’s wonky,” said Lance.

“Don’t touch it,” Louise warned, “You’ll wreck it.”

But boys always know best, as Lance was well aware. He reached up and pushed the top ball of snow on straight. For a second it teetered at the perfect angle, but then it rolled onto the ground and smashed like a glass bauble.

Louise held her breath and watched her brother go through the series of emotions from shock to sadness to learning. She said nothing, but began to roll another head. After a couple of minutes, Lance came over to help.

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