Father Christmas in GREEN, not red

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A Christmas Fairytale

 Christmas Eve so still I know,

But something’s in the wind,

There’s a sense of magic about,

It’s now we need our friends.

Christmas Eve began no different from any other morning this year. Yawning, I opened the blind to see what the day outside offered. It was cold and dark, a typical midwinter day, with a coating frost covering the ground, my car and a few scattered toys the children had absentmindedly left on the driveway the previous evening. Gazing through the steamed up windowpane, onto the frosty wonderland outside, I felt almost as cold as the weather outside. Grabbing hold of my dressing gown I donned quickly it. Embracing its wonderful warmth, I pulled it tightly closed around me. “That’s better,” I whispered, mindful of my wife and children who were still fast asleep in their beds.

Yawning some more, I ambled out from the bedroom, along the hallway then into the kitchen, where I plugged in the kettle for the most important part of the day; my first mug of coffee. For someone who has never imbibed of this aromatic concoction it is impossible for them to understand the importance, the urgency of it. Watching the granules dribble off the spoon, into my mug, sent my pulse racing, in anticipation of the delightful drink I was about to enjoy. “Coffee’s coming!” I said reassuringly to myself.

Pouring the hot, boiling water into my mug, drowning the coffee beans and realising their magical aroma, I smiled. Last, but not least, I added a few drops of milk; to colour it. My coffee was now ready to drink. Raising the mug to my lips, I drank heartily from it. It was truly wonderful.

Pulling out a stool from under the breakfast bar, I sat upon it. Grabbing hold of the TV remote control, I pressed the green button upon it, and then waited for the picture to appear. Being quite old, the TV took some time to warm up. When the picture finally appeared, my mind was drawn away from my coffee, to the scene playing upon it. Sitting erect, I stared incredulously at it. Edging closer and closer to the cathode ray tube, I gasped, “It’s him! That can’t be right. Where have the TV presenters gone?” I asked. Rubbing my eyes disbelievingly, I said, “It’s him! It really is him – FATHER CHRISTMAS!” I said it over and over again, as if in doing so might make some sense of it.

CONTD

A Christmas Fairytale – Plus three bonus stories

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