Bah Humbug! It's Christmas Day - Again!

Christmas Day - and no chimney in Singapore for Santa ...

And now to cook the lunch that everyone will eat and feel tired after eating. Not because of the turkey, but simple due to plain old greed.

Down the chimney  ©

It’s Christmas Day, without the gifts,
Did Santa get our lists?

Dad said, ‘It’s cold, I’ll get a log,

While mother feeds the dog.’

I looked around the Christmas tree,

In search of gifts for me,

My brother searched with all his might,

There was nothing there in sight.

We eyed the mince pies on the plate,

To check if he had ate

A bite, or drunk a glass of milk,

But all I saw was guilt.

The white moustache upon Dad’s lip,

Betrayed more than a sip,

And hard to hide the mince pie crumbs,

That sat all over mum’s.

Dad lit the logs sat in the grate,

And told us all to wait.

The chimney smoked and then it coughed

An ‘ouch’ came from aloft.

Dad stuck his head up in the chute,

And uttered a loud hoot,

‘I do believe old Santa’s stuck,’

My brother said, ‘What luck.’

‘Oh Dad,’ said Mum, ‘don’t take the mick,

That can’t be old St Nick,

That chimney’s such a boring chore,

He’ll come in by the door.’

I didn’t care where Santa was,

The why’s or where’s, because

All I wanted were my toys,

Instead of chimney noise.

The chimney spat out clouds of smoke,

It made me want to choke,

So off Mum shuffled to the door,

Then cried out, ‘Saints galore!’

The door was bolted shut, quite tight,

It had been like that all night.

Dad said, ‘I hate to disappoint,

But I think I have a point.’

We all looked up the chimney stack,

And spied a large brown sack,

A pair of boots and a red coat,

All covered in black smoke.

I knew my presents were up there,

With Santa in mid-air.

I wondered how we’d get them down,

And Dad began to frown.

My brother found a cricket bat,

Mum said, ‘You can’t use that.

Let’s face it Santa’s squeezed in tight,

He’s been there half the night.’

'But I want to open all my toys,'

I said with too much noise,

'There must be something we can do,

To release him from the flue?'

But Mum just shook her head and sighed,

'He's lodged right up inside,

I think his rather largish tum,

Has far surpassed his bum'

And Dad then had a strange idea,

To bring some Christmas cheer,

We'll pull the sack with a large hook,

To dislodge it from the nook.

My brother went to fetch a stool,

To reach the poor old fool,

While mother clapped her hands with glee

And went to make some tea.

Dad tugged and tugged at Santa’s cape,

To help old Nick escape,

But the cloth just ripped off in his hand,

Not really quite as planned.

We heard a rumble from above,

And Santa gave a shove,

But all that fell was one black boot

And a shopping bag of fruit.

‘Oh, fruit,’ said Mum, ‘how good,

I forgot the Christmas pud.’

‘What?’ groaned Dad, ‘no brandy sauce?

But, you’ve made mince pies, of course?’

Mum shook her head, ‘With Santa stuck,

A huge lunch would surely suck,

‘I thought we’d have a healthy day,

Without the tooth decay.’

‘But, Mum,’ I gave a heartfelt sob,

‘Some fruit will never do the job.

‘Besides I asked for a new robot,

He can’t have just forgot?’

From down the chimney came a call,

‘I think I’m about to fall!’

‘Quick find the trampoline,’ Dad said,

‘In case he hits his head.’

But too late …

                                First a crash,

And then a sort of lightening flash,

With a smell like Brussels sprout,

The Christmas lights cracked out.

Another boot, as black as soot,

Had fallen from his foot,

Followed next by Santa Claus,

And my brother’s loud applause.

‘

Oh, Mum, oh, Dad, he’s really here!’

I said with Christmas cheer.

‘Just, look his sack’s stuffed full of stuff,’

Then Dad said, ‘That’s enough!’

‘Can’t you see, Old Nick’s got hurt?

His face’s one mass of dirt.

Go find a cloth and something clean,

He’s looking rather green.

But Santa coughed and then stood up,

‘Ho, Ho! My gosh, what luck!

I’ve got a rather nagging hunch,

I’ve arrived in time for lunch.’

Mum blushed, and wiped her hands all dry,

‘I wonder, Santa, if I might pry,

Whether in your ample sack,

A Christmas pud there’s packed?

Santa wiped his face all clean,

A sparkle in his eye did gleam,

I’ve got the toys, a new robot,

And the pud that Mum forgot.

So, this year Santa stayed for lunch,

With Christmas pud to munch,

And down the chimney he’d no more,

Next year, he’ll use the door.

(Down the Chimney  © Sarah Froggatt 2015)

Bah Humbug - I am too worn out to write about the day - so you'll have to wait until tomorrow...

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 1 more day to go

Last minute Christmas shopping

My last minute Christmas shopping had nothing to do with gift shopping. I had done that ages ago, and as I mentioned, I had conducted most of my shopping online. That way I avoided having to interact with anyone, get shoved around by people who should know better - where is that purported Christmas spirit? What happened to the general sense of being kind? 

Probably getting drunk down the pub.

Shopping online saved me the bother of leaving my home - so I had more time to write, illustrate and read, not to mention play with the cat who thinks he is the cousin of the mayor of Barnaul in Russia. Or is that the cat that thinks he is the mayor?

My shopping foray involved collecting a vacuum packed pre-roasted turkey - because I do not want to spend four hours trying to roast the thing and another four hours cleaning out the oven. So, I outsourced that part. I also picked up some fruit - not typical Christmas fruit - strawberries and raspberries, and some Scottish smoked salmon and New Zealand free range eggs. 

"I thought you needed vegetables?" my eldest son enquired, rather concerned that tomorrow's lunch would be a balanced meal - I could make it balanced without vegetables by placing the turkey on a set of scales, but that would just be stupid.

Vegetables were purchased on Tuesday and Wednesday, when they were displayed fresh and are now chilled in the bottom of the fridge. 

My eldest son had even bought his brother a Christmas present at the end of November (I hid it in the bomb shelter). Ironic that my eldest son. The main perpetrator of Bah Humbugishness in our household, should go to the trouble of finding a gift for his brother.

And so, today, Christmas Eve, my son and I shopped like a couple of men - we made a bee-line for what we needed, worked in tandem at the self-checkout, and marched back to the car. Done and dusted in less than an hour door to door.

But that is where I think my son is the exception. I am convinced that Christmas Eve is the day that men (there, I am being sexist), suddenly realise that they should have bought a gift. They rush out in some mad panic, pick up fifteen gifts that have no real relevance or meaning whatsoever to the person or persons they are purchasing for and pay for a wrapping service, because, men just don't wrap gifts. 

There were men everywhere. Well, of course, it is normal to find men about the place. But so many? And most of them with children in tow or being carried. Where did they all come from? What was their mad rush around the supermarket and shopping mall in aid of? 

I only hoped that my favourite, privately-owned toyshop was not beset by more of these pseudo-families who choose not to read the notice: "please do not take the toys out of the box", "please do not remove the boxes from the top shelf, they are on display below" and, "please be careful when replacing the boxes not to knock any other items on the floor. Once broken they cannot be sold".

Yes, I was rather taken aback the other day when a couple came in with their child who wanted everything, he wanted to touch everything, he wanted to open each thing and put it on the floor and play with it. All in spite of the request of the shop owner, who was more than polite. It is at times like these; I am glad I do not own a physical shop. I sell through Etsy, so all my stuff is online. No one can touch it, dirty it, or break it. Phew.

Now, back to gift wrapping. Actually, there are youtube videos of people wrapping gifts; you can watch them for hours and hours on end. But somehow, I can think of better things to watch than presents I shall not receive being wrapped by someone I shall probably never meet.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

Mum blushed, and wiped her hands all dry,

‘I wonder, Santa, if I might pry,

Whether in your ample sack,

A Christmas pud there’s packed?

Santa wiped his face all clean,

A sparkle in his eye did gleam,

I’ve got the toys, a new robot,

And the pud that Mum forgot.

Bah Humbug, tomorrow is Christmas Day!

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 2 more days to go

Christmas lights - again

Miraculously, as if a sign from above. A reminder that Christmas should be a joyful event. The other half of the icicle Christmas lights that weren't working, (so I was going to throw them out at the end of this season), suddenly decided to light up and work.

Maybe the lights knew their time was up?

Maybe that cat chewed the wire, he is into plastic bags at the moment, and shocked the lights into working.

On the subject of lights, the BBC rather too brightly and the Daily Mail, announced that Christmas lights from American homes use more electricity than whole countries use in a year! El Salvador, Tanzania, and Ethiopia use far less than America does in the Christmas month. 

While I am all for decorating the tree and making the house look festive, do we really need to adorn our dwellings with so much carbon-emitting light?

What happened to the climate change talks? What happened to Americans (and a lot more of us all over the world), reducing our carbon footprint?

With all that light, how on earth can Santa get down the chimney undetected?

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

‘Can’t you see, Old Nick’s got hurt?

His face’s one mass of dirt.

Go find a cloth and something clean,

He’s looking rather green.

But Santa coughed and then stood up,

‘Ho, Ho! My gosh, what luck!

I’ve got a rather nagging hunch,

I’ve arrived in time for lunch.’

Bah Humbug! Turn the lights off!!

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 3 more days to go

A Christmas Cracker Joke

What is fluffy, has four paws, a tail, whiskers and is embroiled in politics?

A Mayoranchian Catidate for the city of Barnaul in Russia

(note the cringe-worthy, newly created words of mayorial and manchurian and cat and candidate).

There is more about Barsik the cat on the BBC, who actually interviewed him! If you have ever tried interviewing a cat, or getting one to star in a film, you will know that the cat has absolutely no interest in co-operating. In fact, cats were made to disobey. That might make for an interesting term of office for the city of Barnaul if the cat is elected. 

The purpose of electing a cat is to remove the inevitable corruption that seems to surround so many political offices - maybe it always did, and our media and social media simply highlight it so that more of us are aware, or turn a blind eye.

The question does arise, however, as to whether one might be able to bribe a cat? I have noticed that whoever feeds the cats for a couple of days finds themselves in a position of great favour with the cat. So, weighing the evidence, one might deduce that a cat could be bribed. Although what favours it might bestow in exchange, might be rather dubious. Land would be out of the question, cats are too territorial. Maybe a juicy mouse or rat, after the cat has tired of it, but then cats normally bring you mice or rats as gifts. Or maybe you just might be lucky and the cat might leave you a fur ball to step on as you leap out of bed in the morning.

Talking of mornings, this morning, my cat, who narrowly resembles Barsik, perhaps he is his cousin, in white socks and gloves, woke me up with the farmers. Sadly, there are no cows close by to milk, the chickens that live up the road, have gone silent, maybe they were Sunday lunch, and in spite of valiant attempts at growing herbs and tomatoes in my tropical garden, I have failed. So, not really what I want - to be woken with the farmers. 

The cat, Titus as he has aptly called himself, believes that he rules the roost, and just about everything else, and anyone else. No wonder he has earned the name: Titus the cheeky cat.

So, after getting me up at an ungodly hour, when the air was so dark outside, not even the insects were making a noise, he then sat on the wall and sneered at me as I sipped an espresso, trying desperately to wake up.

This saga of cats has nothing to do with Christmas, other than the fact that I shall not be purchasing gifts for the cats this year.

Not very cute at all.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

Another boot, as black as soot,

Had fallen from his foot,

Followed next by Santa Claus,

And my brother’s loud applause.

‘Oh, Mum, oh, Dad, he’s really here!’

I said with Christmas cheer.

‘Just, look his sack’s stuffed full of stuff,’

Then Dad said, ‘That’s enough!’

You can read/watch more about Barsik the cat here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p03cqssh

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-35110859

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 4 more days to go

The Force of Christmas

Happy Christmas, may the force be with you. If you are a Jedi, or one practising to become a fully fledged Jedi warrior.

(OK, so this is not a Jedi warrior standard issue helmet)

And so it was, (sounds like the introduction to a Christmas school play) ... 

and, so it was, 

on the fourth day before Christmas,

 in a land, not so far away, and located 50 miles north of the equator,

  two sleep-deprived adults and two teenagers sporting dark circles around their eyes, found themselves in an empty cinema at 10.30 in the morning, 

subjected to annoying Christmas advertisements,

 and customers dancing in ToastBox (a sandwich place) 

because some white haired smiley gentleman had Visa "paywaved" their lunch.

Hiatus while we wait for the overly loud advertisements to finish.

Black screen.

Silence.

No one rustled anything.

Then the familiar John Williams music ...

The rest is history, and obviously, will not be explained for fear of creating a spoiler situation and the resulting negative reviews.

Rather a cool Christmas gift for two boys who don't want anything for Christmas.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

From down the chimney came a call,

‘I think I’m about to fall!’

‘Quick find the trampoline,’ Dad said,

‘In case he hits his head.’

But too late …                                       

                               

                                     First a crash,

And then a sort of lightening flash,

With a smell like Brussels sprout,

The Christmas lights cracked out.

I wonder if Jedi get Christmas presents?

Bah Humbug, we should all move over to the dark side.

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 5 more days to go

Only 5 days to go? And the last Sunday of Advent ...

Bah and double Bah Humbug. Now we are down to the last five days. I need a Christmas pudding to feed more than one person and will have to plan what I am to do about vegetables. Do I buy them now and risk them going floppy, or do I risk not finding them in the market or supermarket when I go shopping the day before?

Whatever, this whole Christmas lunch thingummy-whatsit, is turning my brain into a vegetable.

As the last Sunday before Christmas, the question on many consumers' minds will be - church, shopping or having a quiet afternoon in. Living in Singapore, the shops always seem to be open, and weekends are especially painful as everyone goes shopping, or shopping to look around.

Will the shops be open in the UK? most probably, since not everyone panicked yesterday on Panic Saturday.

So, now we have adopted Black Friday - which really always makes me think of something evil - which it is, because it is a demonstration of sheer greed and consumerism. We have Panic Saturday - the first time I have heard that term - BBC where do you find these things?

And, today, is the last Sunday before Christmas, the fourth Sunday in Advent. Which, for those celebrating Christmas in the true spirit of it's Christian (rather than pagan) intentions, it is time to light the fourth Advent candle. The one for St John the Baptist.

The fifth and final candle, located in the middle of the Advent crown, is lit on Christmas Day, to represent Jesus. Although, if you live in Germany, you'll be lighting that one on Christmas Eve.

Advent is a month of reflection, leading up to Christmas Day and was first followed in Spain around 380AD. Advent then moved to France as a pre-Christmas fast and by the end of 6th Century is was widespread throughout Europe. Another man-made celebration of faith.

But, whatever your religion or faith, whatever your belief, Christmas is the culmination of the year past. It is a time of reflection, giving and being kind to others.

Bah Humbug.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

Mum shook her head, ‘With Santa stuck,

A huge lunch would surely suck,

‘I thought we’d have a healthy day,

Without the tooth decay.’

‘But, Mum,’ I gave a heartfelt sob,

‘Some fruit will never do the job.

‘Besides I asked for a new robot,

He can’t have just forgot?’

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 6 more days to go

ET, phone home ... and falling off your bike.

Only, for the past ten days, my mother had no landline. She had a mobile, but as she never switches it on, it was not a viable option - although I did try calling it.

In spite of living in a world of ultra-connectivity, short of sending a telegram, or hopping on a plane, I found my mother incommunicado due to a loose connection at the public junction box.

I felt like Blondie, in the phone box, the one across the hall. And my sigh was of Pink Floyd proportions as I listened to the continuous ringing.

Maybe it is time to go back to the age of the telephone operator, when you picked up the phone, and a voice asked you what number you wanted. The operator then connected the cord from your line into the destination number line.

Unless you were on a shared party line - which was interesting in a snoopy sort of way, as you could listen in to what other people were talking about - a quasi social media.

In 1958, the Queen visited a new telephone exchange that offered Subscriber Trunk Dialing (STD) - and offered a new type of phone - "available in seven colours":

So where do bicycles come into telephones and telephone exchanges - well, they don't, not really, unless of course you count the chap who cycled round to deliver a telegram? But, they do, if you are ET, and then, of course, you need a posse of cycles peddling up to the moon so you can reach your spaceship.

You do need to be careful, though, if you are cycling in mid-air, not to fall off your bike. Which is sort of what happened to my sister on her way to work last Friday. She fell off her bike. Although, I don't think she was taking ET home.

Interesting point, though, ET crashed first time. So maybe there is some lesson to be learnt here? 

It is not the first time my sister has fallen off a bicycle, the last time she achieved this feat, she was a little girl, and she broke her arm. This time, it was a little more serious, she fractured her pelvis. Just in time for Christmas. 

So she will not be climbing down chimneys for a while, me thinks ...

And, so, the tenuous link of telephones with bicycles.

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

We heard a rumble from above,

And Santa gave a shove,

But all that fell was one black boot

And a shopping bag of fruit.

‘Oh, fruit,’ said Mum, ‘how good,

I forgot the Christmas pud.’

‘What?’ groaned Dad, ‘no brandy sauce?

But, you’ve made mince pies, of course?’

Bah Humbug! It's December, again - 7 more days to go

One week to go ...

The home straight as some might say. But we are not in a race. Or are we? Surely, not? I feel like I am under starter's orders. 

And, they're off. 

It's the turkey in the middle, closely followed by the roast potatoes with rosemary, and the little sausages making a dash for it.

Fast coming up on the left flank are the carrots and are those turnips or parsnips? hard to tell, they're moving so fast. 

Oh, my gosh, but look, the turkey is stumbling over the gravy boat. Oh my goodness, the turkey is stuck, it's wallowing in the bread sauce.

Is it all over?

The mince pies are going to pieces over a glass of milk.

It looks like it's all over.

And, what's that? Just look at those peas, rolling around in the mint. Well, have you every seen anything like it?

The Brussels sprouts seem to be stinking everyone out, which means the Christmas lunch is all but stuffed. 

Definitely, all over.

But, no. Wait.

No, it's a rank outsider, the Christmas pudding and brandy sauce is coming fast into view and there we have it. Christmas pudding, ridden by brandy sauce is the clear winner for the day.

Whatever didn't run, will be for dinner tonight.


Last day of school for the year - which is a relief as it means I might just get another 30 minutes in bed in the morning, before the cats decide to wake me.

So, for teachers and pupils everywhere, I dedicate this little poster of Christmas nouns that I have used this month to bring a Christmas theme to learning grammar.

(© Christmas Nouns, Sarah Froggatt 2015)

If you would like a properly scanned in copy in pdf, then you will need to contact me ...

And, as I cannot be bothered to write anything else today, as I have too much reading to do ...  here's the next installment of down the chimney ...

DOWN THE CHIMNEY ©

 My brother went to fetch a stool,

To reach the poor old fool,

While mother clapped her hands with glee

And went to make some tea.

Dad tugged and tugged at Santa’s cape,

To help old Nick escape,

But the cloth just ripped off in his hand,

Not really quite as planned.

Oh, goodness, Bah Humbug and double Bah Humbug.