As I drove higher up the Divis mountains, the dense grey fog settled around me like a cloak. I was cocooned in a cotton wool ball. Shielded from sight and sound of anything in the immediate vicinity. I didn’t feel safe. I was trapped in a world I did not recognise – a world that should have been familiar to me. A road I had traversed a hundred times had become a dangerous, unknown foreign expanse, white lines no longer a safety feature, and once familiar obstacles only darker shades of grey. I was terrified. Alone and terrified.   Inching forward at a snails pace, my concentration was intense, my eyes desperately seeking for hidden corners and STOP signs. I asked the ones above to protect me and those below, if they so wished. I promised to be good for the rest of my life if I reached home safely – well, until the end of the week. It was Tuesday now, how hard could it be. Sweetly purring engine, full tank of petrol, I would be fine!                                        And then, there issued forth from my radio, at that moment, the charismatic voice of The King, my saviour in momentous times of stress in my life. The haunting notes of “Love Me Tender” filled the interior of my little car and I was content. Without warning, my radio slowly faded out, my headlights dimmed and all power deserted my automobile. I froze. Confused and very frightened, I eventually came to my senses and attempted to restart the car. No! Again! No! It wasn’t happening. I panicked! Oh No! Please! It wasn’t happening! I really meant good for the rest of my life! Are you listening! Closeted in an alien world! Cut off from outside communication! Wait! Of course! My mobile! Frantically emptying my handbag, I retrieved my lifeline and attempted to call one of my family. No! No signal! I sat there stupefied, my useless phone in my lap and considered my options. I could walk – where – I was on top of a mountain. I could flag a passing car – how – they wouldn’t be able to see me. There was no other option. I had to walk somewhere, dangerous as it might be. My hand was on the car door handle when I heard them. Footsteps! Footsteps heading towards me – directly towards me! My stomach lurched. I felt sick, every muscle in my body tensed, then sagged. Strength left me. Check the doors, the windows! Are they locked! Yes! I huddled deep in the passenger seat, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, until the first window tap caused my body to jerk uncontrollably and my pulses raced.                                                                    “Hi, Ma’am, “ a disembodied voice drifted into the car. “Are you okay? Saw your car parked, Ma’am and just wondered.”                                                                                                 It was a strange voice, and yet in some way recognizable, sounding so familiar that I almost opened the door. Fortunately reason set in, and in as firm a voice as I could muster, I replied:                                                                                                                            “Yes, I’m fine, car will start in a moment. Got a little bit flooded. My fault. I’ve rung AA” I lied with bravado.                                                                                                                              “ If you just open your hood, Ma’am, I could sure take a look. Don’t know much but I’ve been driving that ole truck around quite some time now, so I maybe could help. Don’t be frightened. I’m no danger to you.”
His voice had a melodic overture and for some strange reason I felt I could trust him. “Okay” I agreed, and released the catch of the bonnet. Footsteps sounded again as he walked to the front of the car and I glanced furtively in the rearview mirror to ascertain where his vehicle was. The fog obliterated most of it but I could vaguely discern the shape of a small truck and some of the painted logo – CRO– ELEC—–. My radio blasted into song, startling me, and I swivelled round as once again my car lights blazed and the engine started to purr. I waited for my rescuer to approach the window but I waited in vain. No sound, no footsteps, no truck in my rearview mirror, just a very,very faint singing in the distance, the final notes of “Love Me Tender,” and as I pulled slowly away, I heard that deep, southern twang in my head, the voice I knew and loved so well say: “No problem, Ma’am! My pleasure! Elvis has left the building! Thank you and goodnight!”

 

 

Friday 8th January would have been Elvis Presley’s 81st birthday the King’s birthday!  One Elvis post from now until Friday!!!

“Read all about it! Read all about it!” The raucous call of the news vendor echoed round the vast shopping centre, halting folk in their quest for life’s little comforts, things they really, really couldn’t do without. It stopped overweight diners from shoving that last forkful in their open, glistening mouths. Children ceased their energetic play, not fully understanding, but sensing the change in the holiday atmosphere. Christmas time at Shepperton Mall and all was a glittering and a glowing with a multitude of twinkling, fiery lights. Artificial trees bowed down relentlessly with synthetic snow and wide eye angels gazed vacantly, toothy smiles directed at no one. Retail establishments exploded with extra illumination, content in the knowledge that craven consumer business would alleviate the extra electrical expense. Senseless secret purchases for unsuspecting relatives, hideous lace edged handkerchiefs for her, sets of sickening patterned socks for him. Toys for the children with hidden dangers in every dimension, no warnings given by the greedy, malicious manufacturers. Inflated prices, just enough for reductions in the January sales, items costing half the price a few weeks back. Unsuspecting Joe Public duped into thoughts of bargains, while sadistic, sleazy shopkeepers rubbed their hands like Ebenezer Scrooze. Season of good will, time of plenty provided its plastic.

“Breaking news! Breaking news! Under new management!”

Hordes of last minute present searchers, reluctant to part with their ill-gotten gains but knowing it is expected of them. No generosity of spirit, emotional blackmail for husbands and lovers, fearing the wrath of the she devil if no gift materialises under the drooping tree. Cards to write, decorations resurrected from the dusty place in the attic, no tree yet! Well, hurry it up! The day’s nearly here.We want the biggest, the best, the nicest tree in the neighbourhood. Artificial, no way! We want a real, solid forest tree cut down in its prime, hacked to pieces for our enjoyment. A tree that has been torn from its roots, gouged from the earth, silently screaming for mercy, enslaved and on show for all to poke and prod, insult and hurt with rough handling. Stripped and humiliated, shoved into a  rusty coal bucket, legions of gaudy ridiculous baubles planted on protesting bare branches, glistening coils of fire hazard lights slither and snake around the softly pine scented needles of the massacred, once majestic inhabitant of the natural world. They say vegetation does not feel emotion  but sap slides slowly drip, drip to the floor from the wounded creature. Lights, lights and more lights, glowing Santas, prancing reindeer, evil elves lasciviously drooling after virginal fairies, gardens draining the National Grid. Merry Bloody Christmas!

Santas, numerous in number, the unemployed, the destitute, sometimes even the drunk find jobs at Christmas. “Promise the little brats anything,” they are told, just make sure the money is spent in this store. Bitterly disappointed children on Christmas morning, parents watching as hope and excitement die in little faces. They feel useless, despairing, unable to provide a Happy Holiday for their kids. Dad out of work, mortgage unpaid, no money left for expensive gifts. Bloody store Santas! Why make promises to children they don’t even know? Despair to depression to the ultimate betrayal, abandonment, family left behind to grieve, to wonder why. But Dad knows, he let them down, better off without him, the bells toll his leaving. Black Christmas.

 

Hear Ye! Hear Ye! New head of the festive season arriving soon! New boss, new rules. Read all about it!

No one halted their frenzy to discover exactly what the breaking news was. No one seemed to care, too much to do, too little time, if they only knew just how little normal time they really had.  Hurrying, scurrying, poking and prodding at fat, dead, unlucky turkeys, the traditional birds of the season. What an honour for the innocent feathered avian. To be garrotted, plucked, stuffed in intimate places with foul smelling bits of dried grass, trussed, skewered, roasted and eaten by gluttonous hordes. An honour the bird could well forsake.

“What’s that? You want me to put money in your bucket? You’re hungry, haven’t eaten for some time. Sorry, forgot my wallet. Ha! Ha!”

Listen to me people, before it’s too late. Read the latest edition. Read all about it! Please!

No listeners. All he asked to put things right were three wise men or women and a virgin. Scrap the last one, that would prove much too difficult. No sexism in his abode, all welcome, warmly welcomed!

Ludicrous Christmas jumpers, discarded gaudy wrapping paper clogging bins and littering the streets, caught on telephone lines, disintegrating, rotting, causing communication disruption. Reams of tinsel and silken ribbons strewn around for trips and falls, small people choking on fibrous skeins of unravelling packaging. Children queuing for false promises and a pound shop piece of garbage made precious and priceless because it came from Santa. Long lists, short lists, depending on the child, the greedy goblins suffering cramps in their fingers in their haste to list every toy in creation.

Breaking news! Breaking news! The caller’s voice weakens as he valiantly attempts to save mankind, to instil in the animalistic hordes some semblance of humanity. To bring them back to humility and kindness, re schooled in the true meaning of the Season.

On Christmas morning all is peace and love, gifts opened, fun and laughter the order of the day. Until the evening when parental personality changes, when  innocent children cower in the corner fearfully watching as their Mummy and Daddy imbibe copious amounts of alcohol then hurl hurtful abuse and  physically attack each other. More often than not the venom is turned on the child, who holds on to the meagre allowance of Christmas gifts, eyes closed tight to avoid detection. To no avail. The toy is ripped from their tiny hands, cruel words spat in their face, blows rained on the softness of arms and legs. Visiting relations bickering in the background, lifetime squabbles started on this day of days, families split for all time. Merry Bloody Christmas!

Have you heard me, people? Have you listened? Too late! Too late! He is here!

Thunder booms in Shepperton Mall and in all Malls across the world. Skies darken, icy winds blow through the buildings, on the buildings, in the buildings. A voice is heard, deep, dark and full of menace:

“I have waited so long for this day. Biding my time, knowing the hordes of humanity as I so well do, after all I am a warm host to a considerable number of you creatures. I watched as Christmas disintegrated in front of my eyes. True to form, the human spirit sank into depths of greed and depravity, uncaring of others, self- importance gaining the upper hand. I told Him, you know, warned Him, but like all brothers he goes his own way. That surprises you, yeah! The Master of the Universe is my brother. Nice bro eh! Throwing his own sibling out of Heaven. Hah! Now it’s my time, no charitable mercy from me, no second chances to put things right. You are all to blame, your weak minds and sinful souls have been your undoing. Christmas! Bah! Humbug! Bah! The Season is mine! So fire ahead, continue with your twisted frivolities. I am Legion! I am enjoying the show!”

 

 

 

A DIFFERENT  SIDE OF CHRISTMAS!

 

 

TABITHA THE TOOTHTAKER

Fairy Tabitha gazed at her garden wall

Now this won’t do, at all at all

Those naughty elves have broken through

Pinched all my apples and cherries too

 

That hole needs mended, I’ll have to find

A little girl who’s good and kind

A child whose smile lights up her face

A pretty young lady so full of grace

 

Now there’s Molly, who’s jolly but just three, wee pet

Her teeth are safe for some time yet

And Jack is so little, his teeth wouldn’t do

Beautiful boy, his teeth aren’t quite through

 

Pretty young Keeley, young lady at last

Her grown up teeth will be coming through fast

They’ll last all her life if she brushes and cleans

Baby teeth will fall out, you know what that means

 

So Tabitha hummed and whistled a tune

Knowing her wall would be fixed pretty soon

Tooth under K’s pillow, all shiny and white

Perfect to make her garden wall right

 

So when Keeley snuggled that night in her bed

To her Mummy the little girl said

“Will the Tooth Fairy come when I’m really asleep?

What if I wake, can I take a peep?

To see her wings and sparkly dress

Can I Mummy, please say Yes.”

 

Sorry Love the answer’s No

She’s really quite shy, away she would go

There’d be no shiny coins of brand new money

So close those tired eyes and sleep now, Honey.

 

During the night when the house was still

Tabitha flew onto the window sill

Tooth under the pillow, still nestling there

She whispered “Thank You” and took to the air

 

When Keeley awoke the very next day

Felt for her tooth. Her tooth was away.

Sparkling fairy dust scattered around

A silver sixpence and a golden pound

 

So if you hear laughter and sweet sounding singing

If you smell roses, hear bluebells ringing

If you taste orange and cinnamon sticks

It’s due to the goodness of Keeley aged six

She gave Tabitha her treasure, her own little pearl

To keep blossoms safe in the fairy world.

 

 

ON NEW YEAR’S EVE 2015  MY BEAUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER KEELEY LOST ANOTHER OF HER BABY TEETH. AS SHE WAS STAYING WITH ME WE HAVE DEDUCED THAT THE TOOTH FAIRY HAS SAT NAV AND NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE SHE WILL FIND YOU. AND SHE DID!  MAGIC!

LOVE YOU KEELEY!!!

XXXXX

OOOOO