This letter will come as something of a shock, but I himself heavily onto the sofa. In two shakes he was think that at your age you are entitled to know the truth, snoring.
so I hope you wil be gentle in your judgment of me.
I was beside myself with impotent rage, but having
It was Christmas 1989. I was alone as Jo was
nothing else better to do, went back into the kitchen and away flying his aeroplane round the world, and no doubt put the turkey in the oven, then I prepared the vegeta-enjoying the delights of Hong Kong or Shanghai on his
bles and put the pudding on to steam, after which I
days of rest.
opened a bottle of wine, some of which I consumed
I had just taken a dozen mince pies out of the
which put me in a more conciliatory frame of mind. After I oven, and was wondering, rather ironically, why I was so had got half way down the bottle, I was beginning to feel programmed as to repeat this annual performance of
positively festive, so I went back to the sitting room and indulgence every Christmas when there was only myself nudged my visitor awake. “Time for dinner” I announced to eat it.
and waved the bottle.
Suddenly there was an almighty noise from over-
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Ho Ho Ho!” he
head, a kind of sliding, grinding tearing sound which sent chuckled. “What a splendid idea”. So we sat down to a me running to the window in a panic, having visions of
meal of turkey and al the trimmings, washed down with
something falling out of the sky onto my house. Outside yet another bottle of wine.
in the snowy dark I could just discern a tangled mass of
“Pity about the sack of goodies” he mused after
debris which included a pile of broken tiles. I was more we had finished the meal and were sitting rather uncom-angry than frightened, so, grabbing a jacket, I rushed out fortably around the reindeer which was taking up most of of the back door.
the space around the fire.
Ben, this wil be difficult for you to believe, but it’s
“There were some boxes of chocolates amongst
true, and I had not been at the brandy bottle. There was the toys -– stocking fil ers you know, you could have had a lot of shouting and swearing coming from a shadowy
one. Never mind, look for it in the morning!
figure who was bending over a recumbent animal. When
Conversation seemed superfluous after that, so by
he saw me he shouted “About time. I need some help”
mutual consent we climbed the stairs and went to bed,
He was tugging at the reins of a fallen reindeer, its together, I’m afraid.
antlers almost buried in the snow. In a daze I went up to The next morning I was woken by the sound of
him. “Who are you?”
snowbal s thumping against the window. He was stand-
“Well, you must know who I am” he said crossly
ing outside in his red coat and hat waving a box tied up while he went on tugging. “It was al that smoke from
in coloured ribbon.
your chimney that sent me off track. And look where I am
“For you” he shouted, a huge smile amongst the
now -– broken sleigh, one injured reindeer, the other
whiskers. “Found them in a snowdrift. Patched up the
scarpered and goodness knows what happened to the
sleigh and the reindeer (which was standing rather shak-presents”. “What about my tiles” I retorted angrily, point-ily between the shafts) is fine.” He gave it a resounding ing to the scar on the roof where they had once been.
slap on the rump. “Thanks for everything. See you next
“And I’m not insured.”
year” He gave a roguish wink and climbed aboard. I
“Come to think of it, neither am I.” We glared at
watched as they lurched rather uncertainly down the
one another.
snowy path and out of my sight.
The fairy story had got it right. He was a large man
So there you have it Ben. My CHRISTMAS OF
in a red coat and hat with a flowing beard in a jolly face, 1989 which left me with more than a box of chocolates.
which at that point was not so jolly.
We managed to get the reindeer on its feet, shaky
but otherwise unharmed.
Love Mum
“You better come inside” I said reluctantly. I didn’t
seem to have any other option. The reindeer (such a
On second thought I have decided not to send this
large animal) was limping by now. So I took it into the letter after all, he wouldn’t believe it anyway.
house and eased it down by the fire, giving it plenty of space for the antlers. Then I looked round for its master, who by that time had pulled off his red coat, tossed his
I write because…
cap Into a corner and was in the process of pulling off
his boots.
Having a rather vivid imagination I find writing a way of
“Hey” I said. “What do you think you’re doing?” He
expressing myself
didn’t answer, just gave an almighty yawn and threw