Santa Silliness!

Yes! I bring you news of a major literary prize win!

Well OK. Not a major literary prize, BUT the lovely Wendy Soliman, who causes me constant pangs of envy because she spends most of her time in Andorra or Florida (wibble!), had a birthday recently. And in a fit of birthday-inspired madness  generosity she offered a prize for the most  ‘off the wall’ suggestion as to what Father Christmas gets up to for the rest of his year. Read her post to see what started her on this train of thought!

Since off-the-wall is my middle name (yes I know, mine was a difficult childhood. And signing the cheques…), I gave it a go.

And in return for my minutes hours of painstaking effort, I won the prize! Now I just have to sit back and wait for one of Wendy’s books – A Class Apart – to wing its way to me. Hooray!

I know you’re dying to know what wondrous & profoundly life-transforming gem won me my prize.  And it would be mean of me to deny you, oh gracious readers who find me by searching for Belushi Tea, Caron Freeborn and Christopher Somerville.

So here it is. You may want a tissue to wipe away the tears.

Downtime for Father Christmas

Father Christmas is, of course, a kindly soul. So he spends much of his year caring for the other supernatural creatures that don’t get out much – you know, ghouls,the Easter Bunny,the occasional Tooth Fairy whose patch is just a tiny hamlet in the Hebrides. And of course when Mrs Christmas demands her sunshine break (well wouldn’t YOU, if you lived at the North Pole?), they have to invite Jack Frost to their Barbados villa too. “He’s at a loose end,” Father Christmas explains to his wife. She wraps her beach kimono around herself and pouts.”It’s intolerable, Crimbo!” she cries, batting her eyelashes at her twinkle-eyed hubby. “He drips all over the floor!” “He can’t help it, dear” says Father Christmas gently. “It’s in his nature.” Mrs C sniffs. “You wouldn’t say that if YOU were the one who spent the rest of the year scooping up Easter Bunny’s pellets. Easter Bummy, that’s what I’d call him.”
The conversation always ends the same way. She stalks out and Father C sighs, knowing once again his generosity will cost him a brand new ‘Mary Christmas by Chanel’ suit for Mrs C…

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