Tag Archives: Christmas
The little matchgirl. A tale re-told. Part 2 of 2
A spiteful wind howls around the streets. Blows away the fog, the smoke – the warmth. Jack Frost mocks the locked gates of the arcade. Dances through their iron bars, into the doorway where the little girl huddles. Touches her … Continue reading
Jesus weeps. The Pope, Christmas, war – and lemon myrtle soap
The pope gave a sermon last month which was widely reported. It was timely. The western world was turning its thoughts to the annual winter ritual of overspending and over-eating. No surprise, then, that the resulting headlines all seemed to … Continue reading
Moon over the meanygates
Dark clods of earth, like sticky remnants of Christmas pudding,* form ragged ridges over deep, ice-filled ruts. What once were puddles, ruffled by angry winds, now double as skating rinks – for voles and weasels, mice and stoats. A wintry, … Continue reading
Seagulls’ wings, the Snow Queen and a musical time machine
High wind. The seagulls riding it like rodeo stars, their wings ‘like parentheses drawn in the sky’. I’m hearing a song in my head. ‘Listen to the oh-shun, echoes of a million seashells …’ I’m back, for an instant, in … Continue reading
A crab, some washing and a tiny little miracle (well sort of)
A dry room, a cosy bed, a quick breakfast (avoiding bat man) and we’re on our way again. This time I’m driving. Anthro-man’s feeling really bad today. Dizzy, bad head, no appetite. Not like him at all. The rain eases … Continue reading
Bonfire of the insanities
The track is overgrown with tall grass, but a vehicle definitely passed this way, once upon a time. That should be a comfort, but it isn’t. I peer at the guide book in the yellow light of my torch and … Continue reading
A bakery’s not just for Christmas
There’s a hush fallen over the world. Snow lies deep on the ground and barely a car creeps by. The sky’s an odd shade of grey and the clouds hang low in the sky. It’s as if a great duvet’s … Continue reading
