The music’s a bit too busy for such a sensible looking angel. But heck! Even a sensible angel lets their hair down once in a while.
Ronan knew exactly what he’d give his father for Christmas. He would inspire Dad with his very own story – at least that’s what the advertisement said. What if Dad knew his ancestors were Irish? Or Scandinavian? Or even South Asian? Would he celebrate with a pint of Guinness? A plate of pickled herrings? Learn some Hindi and take the kids on the journey of a lifetime? It was time to find out.
Ronan wanted it to be a surprise, so he had his own DNA analysed. Then he could take his father’s line and go yah-yah-yah in a paternal direction. Happy Christmas, Dad!
But Mum and Dad had both had their DNA analysed and were presenting a copy to each of their kids for Christmas.
Oh the sometimes inevitability of life! Ronan’s DNA had nothing in common with his father’s. Christmas rather quickly turned into a pretty dismal affair.
Lizzie, the teacher, planned for her class to make Father’s Day cards. Oh! But she had forgotten that Samantha’s father was dead. The class couldn’t possibly make the cards, said Lizzie. It would be like rubbing Samantha’s face in it.
Lizzie, the teacher, planned for her class to make Mother’s Day cards. Oh! But she had forgotten that Jonathan’s mother was dead. The class couldn’t possibly make the cards, said Lizzie. It would be like rubbing Jonathan’s face in it.
Lizzie, the teacher, planned for her class to make Memorial Day cards. Oh! But she had forgotten that Angela’s aunt was killed in Afghanistan. The class couldn’t possibly make the cards, said Lizzie. It would be like rubbing Angela’s face in it.
Lizzie, the teacher, planned for her class to make Christmas cards. Oh! But she had forgotten that Tareq’s uncle was a Sunni from Jordan. The class couldn’t possibly make the cards, said Lizzie. It would be like rubbing Tareq’s face in it.
At last! said Lizzie. Good morning class! Today is Buddha’s Birthday in Nepal. No one here is a Buddhist I believe. No one is from Nepal. Let’s all make a card!
Annabelle was a bit of a snob when it came to cooking for a festal day. There was always the turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas and hers was always bigger and better than anyone else’s.
“Oh, your turkey sounds awful. Ours was delightful! And the stuffing!”
But on a particular Christmas, Annabelle had the chance to replace the traditional turkey with a traditional goose.
“Oh, are you having humdrum turkey? That’s very run-of-the-mill. We’re having goose. Hubert’s getting one from the farmer down the road.”
Annabelle had never done a goose before. Being a domestic goose and not a wild one, it had plenty of wonderful goose fat. But who cared? Christmas came but once a year.
The goose fat overflowed in the roasting pan. The oven caught on fire. The house caught on fire. The whole shebang burnt down.
“She certainly cooked her own goose,” observed a witty neighbour.
Annabelle didn’t think that funny at all. Some people have no sense of humour.
Details of my Christmas crib (I think some countries call it a crèche?):
Apparently one of these is of me!
There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.
A merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us, every one!
– “A Christmas Carol” – Charles Dickens