No Frankinsense in it?

Firstly, may I wish my reader a very happy Christmas and a prosperous new year. The latter will be easier once you have opened an account with Currencies Direct for your foreign exchange needs.

150,000 people without power, 55 flood warnings, fallen trees devastating the railway timetables; airports flooded and without electricity. Welcome to Christmas in England. My own personal Christmas Eve started slowly with a wet walk around the Arundel Castle estate, and it was some time before the old Christmas spirit really got going. It is hard to feel festive whilst dressed from head to toe in wet weather gear, and being buffetted by the wind and rain.

Whilst walking my mind often wanders (you have to do something to reduce the tedium) and it occurred to me, if you were one to take seriously that great work of fiction, the bible, that you may believe that the three kings were at this very moment some 2000+ years ago, collecting up their gold and myrrh for the young pretender, but what did they mean by bringing that monster with a bolt through his neck? I cannot see any Frankinsense it it. Perhaps there is a pagan Christmas analogy here somewhere? If there is then I can’t fathom it. Could it be something to do with being welcomed into the world by a man with a bolt, and then dispatched in a “cross” sort of a way with nails through the hands? As I say, religion leaves me cold and disinterested. I was going to say thinking about it feels like I am hanging on to life by the palms of my hands but I think the Reverend Jeff may have been a bit upset.

In keeping with the Christmas spirit, the Sprogs decided to buy some seasonal Father Christmas hats. You know the sort of thing; long red hats with with a white fur surround and a white tip. I have a picture of them in operation today.  I wore mine to the Co Op as a gesture that I was as one with the festive spirit. However, upon returning from my mercy mission to collect some fizz for Christmas morning, when That Nice Lady Decorator caught sight of me, she made a very derogatory comment along the lines of me looking a bit like a giant boil. A writer with less taste than myself might suggest that his whole Christmas thing is coming to a head, but obviously that sort of dreadful joke is beneath me.

Sprog 1 helps the Nice Lady Decorator enjoy her Christmas hat

Last night was the typical raucous Christmas Eve celebration, starting at The White Hart, where James Desperate Dan the Landlord had already lost his voice, then on to the Kings Arms where we encountered the injured Charlie Pistorius Malcolmson. He had fallen down some steps a few days earlier but had been fine when we saw him at a drinks party with Colin the Pirate, but apparently he went downhill (!) after that. He was not serving and did not take kindly to my suggestion that he was malingering and avoiding bar duty over Xmas.

Then the Eagle to buy drinks for those Sprogs and then it all gets a bit hazy. We had a plan to go to the Red Lion as there was a band playing but I think That Nice Lady Decorator had peaked a little early, as I saw her drinking water (and we all know what WC Fields said about drinking water) may have returned to the White Hart, but then again we may not have. So I feel that there may have to be an early application of a Bloody Mary before the opening of presents. I am looking forward to receiving some more socks.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News