Sunday Scribblings - A Winter's Tale

This is a true tale about winter. Well, an almost true tale, but I have added extra bits here and there otherwise it would be pretty boring!

When I was small, well not very small, but smaller than I am now, my mum’s church used to send us children to visit the old people in the village just before Christmas - people like my friend Keith!

We used to make cards at Sunday School and wrap up bars of chocolate and things. I remember one old lady; her name was Lady Dorothy Battersby-Smythe. (Actually it was old Dottie Smith and that was the first of my ideas to make the tale more interesting!). Well, I went into her drawing room and we sat in front of a roaring log fire crackling away in an inglenook fireplace (my nose is growing! To be honest is was an ancient electric fire in her kitchen)

She told me that when she was a girl Santa Claus used to come down her chimney on Christmas Eve when she was asleep. I told her that he came to me too, but she said that one year something unusual happened.

While I think about, what do you think about Father Christmas? I worked out for myself at a very young age that there wasn’t such a person as this jolly old man with a beard and a beer belly wearing a red frock. I mean, all that talk about Santa’s little helpers making toys in a workshop was nonsense. He didn’t make the Barbie doll which I got one year any more than he is busy knocking out Wii machines right now, I think Nintendo would have something to say if he was. But I always had a sneaking feeling that there was some strange force popping little bits and pieces into my stocking after my Dad had crept in with some presents from the shop. I never said anything; I hid them under my bed. Now just suppose there is someone or something out there that we adults don’t know about and kids keep to themselves?

Now, back to the Winter’s Tale. On second thoughts I don’t think I’ll carry on. As I said it was a bit boring and I don’t really like lying to make it more interesting. If it was a piece of fiction like Harry Potter, then making things up is okay, but mine was a true story. So I think I’ll stop here.
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