The True Sorry of Christmas and its Viking Past . . . A tale for Christmas Eve

Back in the days of the early Vikings when their kingdom was large and they were feared by all across Europe there was a one particularly famous Viking warrior called Sven Antason. He was known to be fearless in battle and would always lead his fighters into every fight from the front because he completely trusted the Great Norse Gods knowing they would protect him.  The Vikings lords of the day would always call Sven for help in their battles and he would always do so, as a loyal and proud Viking warrior. Sven Antason however was a solitary soul and lived in the frozen tundra, north of the Arctic Circle and during the long dark winters Sven and his team of reindeer would often cross the snow covered wastelands as he headed off to yet another battle, observed only by the Great Norse Gods as no one else lived in this hostile environment over winter.

But as time passed Sven got older and was not seen as the warrior he used to be, and so the Viking lords called on his assistance less and less, trusting the fighting spirit of younger men. But Sven Antason would still go out in the middle of winter and thunder through the frozen snow covered tundra on this sleigh pulled by his trusty reindeer where he would help and save people lost in the bitter dark and unforgiving cold, wind and snow. In fact stories of how Sven Antason would turn up to save travellers started to become common turning Sven into something of a legend among the Vikings. And he would often give strangers food and warm clothing in order that they could continue their journey something that was much appreciated by those he helped; leading to his growing reputation as a kind and wise man.

But as time passed as it does Sven grew older still and it became harder and harder for him to venture out into the wild and eventually he knew the days when he could battle through the worst of the winter weather were numbered. So as another winter reached it coldest and darkest and a bitter blizzard blow through the landscape he decided it was time to take his sleigh and reindeer our for one final run and place his destiny in the hands of the Great Norse Gods as he had always done.  The Gods of course liked Sven Antason and so they told Sven that it was time for him to be at peace, but that once a year on the darkest and wildest day of winter he can travel many journeys on his sleigh pulled by his trusty team of reindeer with all strength he had in his younger days. This was so Sven could show all the wisdom of maintaining faith in the Gods and yourself.

Well as we know Modern religion in not keen on the old Gods of mankind, particularly the Great Norse Gods and so modern Christianity has sneakily changed and adapted the story of Sven Antason to be rather more Christian. Which means that Sven Antason is now known now as Santa and rather than a brave and noble Viking, he is said to be a friendly old chap in a Red Outfit.  This is not something that the Great Norse Gods or Sven worry about because as parents and folk sneak presents under Christmas trees in the warm of the homes;  out in the wilds, North of the Arctic Circle Sven Antason and his reindeer will be speeding through the snow as they do every year.

And so there you have it Santa is entirely real only he is a old Viking warrior called Sven Antason protected by the Great Norse Gods of Old. And that is the true story of Christmas. . . . . . . sort of 

A tale of Santa which has been proved to be slightly wrong

This is yet another repeat but it is OK because I bet none of you read it the first time. Now I do need to apologise at this point because it has become clear in the last 2-3 days that this story is in fact not entirely true. I know folk trust me to be truthful but when a large man in a red coat tells you a story he says is entirely true I for one believe him. But is seems that the chap was a fake Father Christmas or so I have been informed by the real Father Christmas a few days ago.  Luckily the true Father Christmas has talk me the truth about Santa and in the next couple of days I will be able to reveal all. . . . When I say reveal all I do not mean take all my clothes off and run about I am not that mad. No I will tell you all the truth about the origins of Santa way back when.



So here we have it the Story of Santa (only its a bit wrong)  


One upon a time a very long time ago living in the wild snows in or around the proximity of Lapland lived a mad grumpy old man who for reasons only known to himself and a gang of Elves wore a false beard. He had locked them (the Elves not the false beards) in a large workshop making novelty logs for his fire in the shape of trains, cars, rockets, dogs, cats, rabbits, in fact almost anything you could think of. He then threw them on his fire (not the elves but the logs) going HA HAHH HA HHAH ahha ha ha ha ha hah ha ha ha because he disliked them all, but had been warned by the police about throwing small cute furry things and trains onto fires so had to make do with wooden lookalikes.

Once a year however he would venture out in the middle of winter and steal mince pies, and glasses of mulled wine from folk in the middle of the night (I did say he was mad). It was something of a mystery for the people of Lapland who just could not work out who was stealing all the mince pies and drinking their mulled wine or getting into their houses.  Then the king decided to reward who ever caught the thief with a fir tree full of sparkly things, a foolish idea after all folk in Lapland need another fir tree like a hedgehog needs one more flea.

But as it happens one small child, a little girl decided she would like her very own fir tree full of sparkly things so hid in a large box which she disguised with wrapping paper and a large bow. It is after all the sort of thing little girls do, they are not going to be happy hiding in a plain old cardboard box.  Then at the stroke of midnight the mad old man arrived down the chimney grumbling about soot and stuff.  As he drank the little girl’s parents mulled wine and raided the larder for mince pies the little girl sneaked up behind him and said I ARREST YOU FOR STEALING WINE AND MINCE PIES AND YOU MUST COME WITH ME TO THE POLICE STATION.

The grumpy old man was a bit startled but thinking fast he said HO HO HO LITTLE GIRL, IF YOU LET ME GO I WILL GIVE YOU A SACK OF NOVELTY LOGS (SORRY I MEAN TOYS) TO BURN (SORRY I MEAN PLAY WITH) AND BESIDES I HAVE A MAGIC REINDEER WAITING FOR ME ON YOUR ROOF AND IF YOU ARREST ME HE WILL STARVE TO DEATH. AND HE HAS A RED NOSE AND A MAGIC SLEIGH AND ANTLERS AND STUFF.  The little girl pondered and looked at the logs (sorry toys) and said OK THEN BUT THAT BIG FALSE BEARD IS RUBBISH AND WOULD YOU LIKE A CARROT FOR THE REINDEER.  Nodding and taking the carrot the mad grumpy man made his escape up the chimney as fast as possible, but as he did the little girl shouted to him BY THE WAY WHAT IS YOU NAME and as he reached the top he shouted back SATAN HA HAHH HAH HA HAH HHAH ha ha ha HO HO HO . . . .

The little girl mishearing him said SANTA? WELL THAT’S A FUNNY NAME. However at school the following day she told her friends about SANTA and showed them her wooden novelty logs (sorry I mean toys) and then every small child started demanding they wanted SANTA to leave them things and the whole thing just got entirely out of control.  But the mad grumpy old man found that his new fancy toys (sorry novelty logs) were selling like hot cakes (or logs) and he made loads of money allowing him to buy a big flash fur lined red coat. Although the Elves demanded a pay rise and with advances in technology got their revenge by not supplying batteries.

Of course over the long years the whole story has become a bit mixed up and  fact and folk tale have blended together so that almost no one believes Santa is a mad grumpy old man in a false beard complaining about an itchy fur lined coat and drinking mulled wine in the middle of the night and nibbling a carrot………………

A Christmas Poem and a fat Squirrel

Yes its time for another repeated old poem from the past because Christmas is all about repeats and if you dont believe me just go and look and see what is on the television over the Christmas period. Just so you all know it has been raining again here today . . . . It is starting to turn me a little mad. Yes it is mild, in fact I think the temp outside is about the same as it was in the summer only it is much darker and WET . . . . And I notice that the Boxing Day sales have started in some of the shops . . . . . WHAT I am confused even more now.

Oooooooo we have a rather aggressive grey squirrel at present who is not only chasing the birds off but is now fighting us and making rude gestures as he escapes with all the peanuts. I am not entirely sure the laws of nature are meant to include an overweight greedy Squirrel 

Santa is a Zombie

Or so it has been said

He went to bed for a nap

And woke up a bit Un-Dead

So when he sneaks down your chimney

Or through your sewage drains

He will not want mulled wine or pies

He wants to eat your Brains

And when you wake up on Christmas Day

As one of the Un-Dead

You will find your wearing stockings

And a pointy hat that’s RED……..

AH HAH HA Hahah ah ah ah ha hahah hahah ha hah ah ah ahha hah ha ha ha ha hah ah ah ahh ha ha ha ha ha hah

One small Step for Man, One Giant Leap for Christmas

Yesterday I started to write my post for the day letting the world know what I was up too, only before I finished it I sort of came to a grinding halt. Life is like that ups and downs and stuff to do and then sometimes as happened yesterday you have a little break and that’s it you never get back to the task you started. I am a bit like that at times and easily distracted, although last night I was just tired. . . . I think it’s this bug that is still lurking about inside me and messing with my mind. . . . . . .

Anyway here is what I wrote

 Well the chap who I was making the Top Hat and Skull Mask for was unable to get home in time for us to meet up last night. It appears he was trapped on a motorway near Leeds for about six hours so was rather tired when he finally got home. But he popped round to see me this morning as I needed to check the hat fitted before I continued it. Well it was a perfect fit, now how cool is that, and it meant I was able to finish making it today which is very hunky dory indeed  and I will be delivering it to him on Thursday.  One thing that I noticed though is that the skull sits perfectly on the front of the hat which in turn has given me an idea to make something rather special for myself. I don’t often make anything for me, but if I get my act together I reckon this will be an awesome little bit of hat come mask and a must for scaring little old ladies in the middle of the night or folk on the train. . . . . OK I don’t go on the train any more but that is a minor issue. . . .

 . . . . . . . .  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

OK that was yesterday and today is today, so far I have moved a table pulled out a few dead plants that needed pulling out of the garden, (it is NOT RAINING) had a bit of a battle with a huge flock of maggots in the green waste bin. This is what happens when it has not been put out for a few weeks, I normally hose it out after but these small beasts have taken it over and so I need to evict them to avoid screaming bin men in the morning at the top of the drive. They may not be quite as hardy as myself (the bin men not the maggots) as I will fight most beasts from maggots, slugs, snails, banshees and werewolves and the odd passing possessed vampire goat.

I also have Christmas things to do before Christmas as well as lights and decs to put up and turn things sparkly so that small children and adults all go OOOOOoooooooooo and leap about among the holly. In fact holly is my next task, but what I want to know is why did we pick on a plant that was so damn spiky, it attacks me every year going up and then does the same coming down. Even my faithful cactus’szszsssssszzzzzz don’t do that although I don’t try and hang them in the corners of rooms or over picture frames. . . I am not entirely mad.

OK that’s it Off I go . . .  I will be jolly and say Ho Ho Ho a lot to confuse the bird population who are trying to bankrupt us by eating huge amounts of nuts and seeds, I think nuts are seeds but I guess you know what I mean.

 OK its much later now and I am finishing the post and will be eating shortly, I am doing the man thing of doing something which may not entirely appear productive (this Blog) while my evening meal is being cooked for me. Us chaps can be a bit like that but I am better at putting fairy lights up that cooking. (honest) . . . No its true and my veggie cooking skills are rubbish . . . . . apparently deep fried Mars Bars don’t count. 

An Average day in the run up to Christmas

Today has been a funny old day as I have achieved what I intended although at this moment in time I still have some of the day left so with luck will get a bit more done yet.  I have stopped for a cup of tea, living in Britain and being a bit of a traditionalist in many ways it is important to stop sometime in the afternoon round about three-ish to have a cup of tea.  I am trying to make a top hat to go with the James Bond skull mask and it must be finished by Thursday.  The critical thing at present with this hat is ensuring it fits the person it is intended for and to that end I will be heading out later into the dark damp grey evening to stick the hat on the head of the person whose head it will be on in a few days time at a party. A party I will not be at even though the hat and mask I made will.  Typical you make stuff and what happens it vanishes off and has a good time leaving me sat in front of a Christmas tree.

You see one of the other things on today’s list was decorate the Christmas tree; this has been started and continues well although another small point is we have four Christmas trees this time. I know that sounds rather decadent but it is not as bad as it sounds. One is our trusty fake main tree, two of them are smaller fake trees left over from the days of Napoleon Beelzebub’s Very Strange Victorian Curiosity Shop and the fourth one is a real tree in a pot outside that will be staying outside to ensure it lives on into old age seeing many more Christmases in the future. Something I guess we are all hoping to do.  As far as lights go that is no problem as I buy a new set of fairy lights every year and have done for many many many years. Nothing bling just simple white LED fairy lights so we can easily put up several thousand little sparkly lights without too many issues (I do love fairy lights).

OK we are fast coming to the end of my afternoon tea break so I might try and get a picture of Christmas so far and then its onwards and upwards to do constructive things and then a bit later I will post this post on my humble blog were it may or may not be read.  As it is nearly Christmas I don’t mind if folk don’t read it because I know that up north near the North Pole there is a chap in a large red coat white beard who goes Ho Ho Ho a lot who does read it (Uncle Eric) . . . . . . . . .     

OOOOoooo yes I made a fish for my homemade nativity scene but still have at least one wise man and a sheep to make, I was told pigs were not about at the nativity scene 





I am still waiting for a phone call to go and do a hat fitting . . . . it appears the traffic on a motorway out there somewhere is not moving, I am glad I live in the sticks.

Festive Poetry where Harry Potter meets the Night before Christmas. . .

Yes its time for an old favourite from the Past

I know its another repeat But I like it. .. but then I would I guess.

Was the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Santa for Wizards would turn up there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of muggles danced in their heads.

And Hermione waving her wand, an eye in her lap,

Had just settled her brain for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Ron sprang from his chair to see what was the matter.

Away to the window Ron flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to Ron’s wondering eyes should appear,

But a Drunk Harry Potter, with eight tins of strong beer.

With a little can opener, so lively and quick,

Ron knew in a moment Harry must be feeling quite sick.

Then into the night a voice suddenly came,

And it whistled, and shouted, and called Ron by his name!

"You’re my best mate Ron you cute little Vixen!

I’ve had a great doner kebab at a party in Blitzen!

but I’ve been sick on the porch! and the top of the wall!

but must dash away! Dash away! because I might be sick in your hall”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up on the house-top Ron he just knew,

With a sleigh full of Toys, was Hagrid drinking Homebrew.

And then, in a twinkling, Ron heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As Ron shook his head, and then turned around,

Down the chimney fell Hagrid with a terrible sound

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bottle of gin he had tied on his back,

And he looked like a madman, about to attack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how scary!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose rather hairy!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like Banshees in the heath.

He had a broad manic face, was incredibly smelly,

And he shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was grumpy and plump, spitting bits of food on a shelf,

And Ron cringed when he saw him, in spite of himself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave Ron to know he better watch what he said.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

Giving a nod, out the window he then chose!

He sprang to his sleigh, and to Harry Potter gave a whistle,

And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.

But Ron heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Here Harry I know of this bar that is open all night!"

I Spy With my Little Eye something beginning with C . . . Yes Christmas is not far away

Now one of the things I did today was go out and do a small bit of Christmas shopping, partly because we have an advent calendar with little boxes and they need some small and hopefully practical or jolly things in each one. This means I do not have long as it is my job to fill all the odd numbers, and the 1^st December is not far away. However I am bitter and twisted and a very grumpy chap and on top of that it was wet windy cold and dark today so as I wandered round a large complex of a store a few miles away I was not doing well.  One of the problems I had was finding small interesting or jolly things that were small enough to go into our advent calendar. Each year I think to myself I must make more stuff for Christmas, but then the great holder of the hands of time suddenly spins them round and I don’t have time to do it. I am sure he does this on purpose and is secretly laughing at me.

Anyway I got a couple of things and still have many things I wish to make and do, so I may be away for a couple of days. . . . . or at least not posting stuff that is of the moment, interesting and makes any sense. . . . . . . . . . We will see. 

I have noticed through the strange medium of social media that some folk have put up and decorated Christmas trees . . . . . . WHAT it is not December yet. Don’t folk remember what Christmas is all about, it is the old pagan midwinter festival where for a couple of days we all have a good time . . . . . . OK some might be celebrating the Baby Jesus, but he was born in October; but which ever you celebrate the one common point is, it does not last for several weeks it is a few days.  It all went wrong when the multinational companies decided we all needed to spend loads of money on stuff rather than actually all just smiling at each other and making sure the little old lady next door is warm and has something to eat.  I know I am no different to everyone else I buy stuff and play the game and watch The Great Escape on TV like all the other folk do. . . . But I have sneakily made a few rather posh looking paper chains with plans for some other bits also.

So just to warn you all my posts may reduce for a few days or so while I plan my plans to get stuff done. Ho Ho Ho . . . . Phew.      

A Christmas Day Message not from the Queen

I seldom Write posts on Christmas Day but it is ten thirty in the evening all is quite and so I am reposting my diary entry from 2011. This means that some of what is below is not true and some is. Fundamentally I did not get the same presents I got new ones. . . .I am a lucky chap. As I have said many times the world is fickle there are things we can control and even more we cant, I hope you have all had a great day and that the year ahead will be good. I wish you all the very best and hope as always that folk learn to all live together even though I realise this is unlikely. . . .us humans are not all nice which is a damn shame, we are a conflict of human morality and the basic instincts of nature.  

So what did I write in 2011

Christmas day and a time of many things to many people. My good friend Captain Nessman will have been to mass and then out helping others and trying to do good deeds remembering his friends and family, a day of peace before battling the seven seas once more. We have had a quiet day at home opening presents and pottering about, and sending the odd message out wishing the world a Merry Christmas.

It has been a very chilled Christmas day which is great and I am very lucky to have an array of interesting presents from family and friends including my first mass market merchandising in the form of a badge, well several of them in fact from Miss Fionski the Famous Russian Spy proving the very point that thinking about presents means more than spending lots of money.

I also got some huge clawed hands that fit on my own hands so that I can pick up entire shrubs in the garden and put then in the expanding container supplied with them. I tried testing them on the cat but it ran away at the sight of two huge green claws approaching. I have also receiver books and CD’s (Steely Dan and Neil Young), posh shirts and posh chocolates and various items for the garden plus a weather vane for the roof (Well Cool). Yes I know what you are thinking “BUT YOU ARE AN ECCENTRIC CHILD NOT SOME GRUMPY OLD BLOKE” but I have loads of stuff and as my very good friend Captain Nessman would say Stuff does not bring happiness, OK I am happy and like stuff and have lots of it, but the twists and turns of life are fickle and we must remember such things and not take the good fortune we find ourselves in for granted. After all there are millions who have no control over their fate and have nothing or give up all to fight the greed and corruption of their leaders.

OK that’s it the end of this years Queens speech, Time for food and overindulgence after all I do live in the decadent west, although I don’t do sales so no boxing day sales for us. 

The possible origin of Christmas. . . sort of.

As we enter the eve of Christmas Eve  it is a time of Christmas carols and interesting stories about things that people do not know about , stories of great strangeness from all over the world, so as we start to panic that we have not wrapped any presents yet.  I will retell (I know Christmas is also a time of repeats on TV and Blogs) of a certain tribe deep in the South American forest and how their ancestral song ended up as a Christmas carol.

It appears the tribe were cannibals, I know not nice, but these things happened back in the old days, and it is said by those who know that the tribe would attack other tribes and run off with the juicy ones and eat them in a big festival with roast chestnuts and hang their (the chaps becoming dinner) clothes above the open fire as they slowly roasted them on a large spit (OK YUCK). 

As time passed European Missionaries arrived and said HANG ON THIS IS NOT NICE YOU CAN'T DO THAT so they (the tribe) tried eating the missionaries, but they tasted really very YUCK to the tribe. It was the high wheat diet of the Europeans, all that bread and hard ships biscuits, and it turned out the tribe was allergic to wheat, what with there being none in the jungle.

Then on this very night (OK tomorrow night but its close) hundreds of years ago three kings from the east arrived who had followed a star, and they came bearing gifts having travelled over field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star until they arrived in the deep forest. The tribe who now realized eating Europeans was a bad move said HELLO WHO ARE YOU THEN and the three Kings said WE'RE THREE KINGS OF ORIENT ARE but due to a terrible error in translation it was translated into WHEAT FREE KINGS OF ORIENT ARE, and so on Christmas day all those hundreds of years ago the tribe had a delicious meal of three kings. Their (The Three Kings) ornate stockings, (Kings wear ornate stockings when travelling) . . .  hanging in the branches above the fire, filled with the gifts that they brought with them.  

The tribe wrote a song in celebration and as the kings were from the orient the song became a victim of Chinese Whispers and the rest as we tend to say is History.

Yes its a shock but Christmas is an old South American cannibal festival that has sort of gone wrong over time, which must be true or why on earth would we be expected to eat brussel sprouts. 

An old recycled Poem from Last Christmas . . . I know I do Poetry, but only very badly....

It is late and  so I have decided to dig out an old poem I did about Christmas last year, I thought it was OK and having just read it again (for a Twitter Tweet) feel it is sort of good enough to recycle now…… The timing might (is) be a bit out, but we need a bit of peace and goodwill about at present.

Once upon a Christmas Eve dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore’s.

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chambers doors.

'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, is it the curse of Santa Claws.

Marching severed hands oozing sweat from their pores.

The constant scratching and demonic clip clop of cloven hoofs on my slated roof.

A demonic Red Nosed Reindeer loosening roof slates by the Score.

And while I’m Knotting and neatly Wrapping presents, there is still a tapping.

It must be the curse of Santa Claws the cursed hoards rapping rapping at my chambers doors.

But what if it is a friendly visitor entreating entrance at my chambers doors.

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas I can hear. It is the cursed multitude of SANTA CLAWS.

Shouting shouting out into the night.

Poe Poe Poe . . . .  Merry Christmas.

HA HAH HA HHAH HAH AH HAH HAH HAH AHhah ah ah ha ha aha ha ha haha hah ah ahah hahah ah ha ha ha hahah 

And once again I thank Mr ESB for planting the seed of the idea . . . . 

The Original Post 

The Art of recycling old rubbish . . . . . . . and a useful tip about Gravity

It is quite late and after a hard day doing science dropping large cannon balls and feathers off large towers to prove that gravity is far more painful if it hits an unsuspecting passer by when it is influencing a cannon ball in a state of freefall, rather than a whole load of feathers. Unless they are glued to a cannon ball or a cat.  I have decided that I will re post an old post from the past and also an old drawing. I know I am lazy but I do post stuff more than most so feel as it will soon be Christmas I am entirely justified.

So here it is . . . . an OLD POST

Once upon a time there was a large jolly rotund chap with a big white beard and red fur lined jacket who carried a large sack about known to all as Father Christmas (that’s the rotund chap not his sack). He was a generous chap who would rummage about in his sack and give passing small children presents and the like shouting Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas. He was very popular much like Elvis and like Elvis it was not long before everywhere he went folk you run up to him screaming asking for autographs and asking him to sing the ever popular Be-Bop-A-Lula I don’t like Gravy, a sentiment all folk with large white beards will whole heartedly agree with no doubt. 

As he became more and more famous and popular it got harder and harder for him to go anywhere without folk turning up demanding stuff out of his sack or making him sing that song again or trying to book him for parties or saying he was the father of their love child. When it was plain to all that super gluing beards onto small children was never going to convince anyone.

So as time passed Father Christmas became more reclusive and hid away up north in the snow only venturing out in the middle of winter a time that became known as Christmas time because he was never seen any other time of year. He still went Ho Ho Ho a lot but now sneaked into houses at night as it was the only way he could avoid being asked to sing that song.  Of course by hiding away there was an opportunity for those Elvis impersonators who were not doing to well (put bluntly they were rubbish at Elvis), having fallen on hard times they became dishevelled and unshaven ending up with long white beards allowing them to become Father Christmas impersonators; it was cheaper too all you need is a big red coat and a sack, not a white sequined suit like Elvis and there was no need to be able to play the trombone either.

Over the years the real Father Christmas has got even more reclusive but the Father Christmas Impersonators or Santa impersonators as they are known now for legal reasons are all over the place. And it is easy to see why they all had to give up being Elvis impersonators, the closest I have ever seen one looking a bit like Elvis was when he was bitten by a large Hound Dog one Christmas Eve and screamed Im all Shook up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .HAH HA HAH HAH HA HAH HA HAH HA HAH HAH HHAH HAH AH hah a hha ha ha ha ha ha.

Long arms and Geckos

We are lucky here in that life is still fairly chilled and in Christmas holiday mode, yes we are very lucky indeed what with a myriad of jolly presents and lots of food and everything going sort of to plan I am pleased to say all is well. Well I say all is well as it appears the rather interesting Steam Powered Gecko has been a bit of a pest having run about on the PC monitor for a while and has taken to eating Santa pictures. However many in the UK have been having a tricky time over Christmas with a complete lack of power so that in order to eat their Christmas dinner it needed to be wrapped in clay and cooked in a bonfire like they use to do in the old days with hedgehogs. This was in the old days when there were loads of hedgehogs and it was not regarded as bad form to eat them; things changed once the hedgehog became a cute beast in children’s books although it has not stopped their decline in numbers. Anyway to get back to the point you can’t cook a turkey in a bonfire when there is a flood, but there does seem to be a modern trend to build houses on flood plains in Britain which ruins the habit of hedgehogs and makes it impossible to cook a turkey in a bonfire (or an oven) during a flood.

The only thing useful I have done today is try old clothes on to see what can go to the charity shop, run my Mrs E in Newtown. This however has revealed that something strange is happening because I have noticed a lot of my old clothes appear to have shrunk by just sitting there in a cupboard for a long period of time. I know for sure that it is the clothes shrinking rather than me growing because of my arms; you see arms get to a certain length and then stop getting any longer, but clothes that had arms that were the right length once, now have arms that are to short. I pointed out to the others here that my arms are not growing, but everyone insisted that my arms are getting longer and I may be turning into a large ape. In fact there is a so called scientific theory that says if a man writes an infinitely number of words he eventually write the complete works of a large number of monkeys.  It also appears that arm length is directly proportional to the distance you sit from the keyboard while typing.  I have been told that one of the reasons the iphone and tablet style devices are so popular is the fact they do not have keyboards and folk believe this will avoid the risk of their arms growing in length.

I do have one question though I can’t answer and that is . . . . . If my arms are getting longer as I get older why is it getting harder to reach my feet. . . . . . This is a paradox and that is for sure…..

You will notice most of what I have written tonight is rubbish; however I am not going to let writing rubbish get in the way of completing my best selling Blockbuster Diary. 

.

Boxing Day, Sparrows and Wrens

We have arrived at the end of Boxing Day here in cyberspace, I am not sure if everyone has a Boxing Day or not, but I believe it is also known as St Stephens Day where some folk dress up in old clothes, shambolic fake straw hats and wave fake wrens at passer’s by, as you would expect the day after Christmas Day.  Anyway it got to be called Boxing day more recently after everyone started turning up at the recycling skips with all the boxes that all their Christmas presents were in, before they rush off to the sales to buy more stuff in boxes.

Strangely after Christmas day where everyone gives gifts to folk so that folk have loads of stuff and are pondering where to keep all the new stuff given as gifts, many people are compelled to think I know I will rush off to the sales and buy more stuff.  The very time when the masses don’t actually need more stuff, it is a strange ritual with its origins back in the early days of mans history when this time of year was tough for us in the northern hemisphere. However back in the Neolithic days boxes were thin on the ground and generally made of stone and sales were like hens teeth, AH apparently back then hens had teeth so that saying is rubbish.

Here at home it is tradition for the family to turn up and we eat food wave arms about wear demonic wrens hats (or dog hats if you cant find a wren hat) play games such as who killed the wren with the iron bat (sorry bar) in the Library and tell stories of much interest and wisdom and then eat more food.

I think everyone had a good time and I had planned to take pictures of them all for posterity only they all said NO and who is this posterity chap anyway. Sorry but that means it is pictures of an empty table instead (very exciting).

They have all gone home now and we have just said farewell to Santa who has also just left (no he really did, heading off in his sleigh in the direction of North), although he said he plans to turn up next year with a fresh supply of wrens. . . . . .

Talking of wrens I am getting a little annoyed by a sparrow hawk that keeps nicking the local sparrows, we have a good flock of sparrows here or we did until this critter turned up. Nature as I have said many times before is not nice I may be forced to make the Micro God of Sparrows and possibly Wrens too. 

      

.

Edgar Allan Poe vs Christmas . . . . A poem of Christmas cheer (AH. . .Well)

The Ravens as they headed home tonight in the sunset

Once upon a Christmas Eve dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore’s.

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chambers doors.

'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, is it the curse of Santa Claws.

Marching severed hands oozing sweat from their pores.

The constant scratching and demonic clip clop of cloven hoofs on my slated roof.

A demonic Red Nosed Reindeer loosening roof slates by the Score.

And while I’m Knotting and neatly Wrapping presents, there is still a tapping.

It must be the curse of Santa Claws the cursed hoards rapping rapping at my chambers doors.

But what if it is a friendly visitor entreating entrance at my chambers doors.

Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas I can hear. It is the cursed multitude of SANTA CLAWS.

Shouting shouting out into the night.

Poe Poe Poe . . . .  Merry Christmas.

HA HAH HA HHAH HAH AH HAH HAH HAH AHhah ah ah ha ha aha ha ha haha hah ah ahah hahah ah ha ha ha hahah 

Thanks to Mr ESB for his comment last night which planted the seeds of an idea . . . 

.

The diary, the Turkey and the Christmas presents

Hello all I am here with a diary entry as it has been a few days since I told you all the news, but as it has been a few days I have forgotten most of what happened. You see this was one of the main reasons for starting this diary in the first place, and one of the reasons I write it most nights. So now I am going to have to remember sort of what has happened.

I do know that we took Miss Jane from one place to another place and one of those places was home as Mr Charlie had gone to France to do important things. Then other stuff happened like………………. It has been windy and wet, seriously windy and wet round here and some of the trellis that was put up in the summer started to lean a bit so is now secured with a couple of props. You can’t beat a bit of triangulation to stop a thing blowing over in the wind, it is rather windy yet again.

Mr P who had been in hospital for an entire year finally made it home and he gave us a ring to say he was home and everything finally worked; that is in his house not in him, as bits of Mr P do not entirely work as designed by nature, or as some would have it, the Micro God of human bits. In fact a Christmas card from Mr P arrived this morning.

I have also finished my Christmas shopping; I always have serious problems Christmas shopping because I buy things and then hide them so folk will not find them, but then forget what I have bought and where they are hidden. Or worse still entirely forget I have bought them which is fine until you find a present for someone in June wrapped in snowmen paper  with Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas written on it . . . . And I am serious about this I have done it more than once.

I have done loads of other stuff but I can’t remember what so that will have to be that. . . . . .     OOOOOoooooo yes, just to say the Ghost Writer got his car back yesterday and it had to have a new clutch and stuff, well that sounds expensive I am glad I don’t have to pay for it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . AH DAMN apparently I do, it appears that he says it is due to excessive ghost writing due to me rambling on about stuff no one is interested in like the three headed Seagull I chased away from the pond the other day or was it a Heron. I can remember but it did have three heads, or was it three legs

Oooooo I also saw a frog the other night too

I will now end with another Christmas Poem to cheer you all up

The Christmas Turkey has dug a tunnel

To avoid its terrible Fate

That goes under the perimeter fence

And under Bernard’s Gate

But the Turkey is a greedy bird

And now a huge big Beast

And will not fit into the hole it made

So will be our Christmas Feast

YUM

HAH HAHAHHAHHAH AH HAH AHHAH AH HAHHAH AH HA ha hah ah ha ha ha ha ha ha  

   

And finally Hello Charles and Quentin at GCHQ, you have done it again chaps, made the news yet again; I notice I don’t get a mention on the BBC typical and me your friendliest snooped upon cyber-person, there is no justice. 

Christmas Rooms and the achievement of not achieving great things

Mrs E and Mr S called in today to say hello and collect some things and I ate food and drank tea, in fact looking back on the day as a whole I think I did not achieve a great deal, something that I appear to be very good at. I am sure someone once told me that if you find something you are good at it is best to pursue it and get even better at in. However being good at not achieving is not seen as an achievement by the masses who will throw rocks and pointy sticks at me and my fellow non achievers as we achieve our goal of non achievement.  Luckily few of the rocks and pointy sticks ever hit us as those throwing them fail to achieve the satisfaction of hitting their target, proving that they too would be far better pursuing a life of non achievement too, after all it is one of the great truths of life that non achievement is a goal that can be achieved by all, we all have things we cant do and this makes us all equal and that is a truly great achievement . . . . . . .DAMN  that was not meant to happen…….

 I sprayed a bit more green on a thing today and put up a few more Christmas lights and sort of avoided the funeral of Nelson Mandela. I know that sounds rotten as he was a great chap and did much for South Africa and his people, but he did his bit and kept faith over the years fighting his cause. I do wonder as he was a modest chap whether he would have preferred to have a quiet funeral with a few friends and family without all the hype of the media companies chasing him to the grave. You can’t help but wonder if he will become a tourist attraction like Elvis as various folk look to make money one way or another. This you see is the down side of being one of the world’s great achievers, something us great non achievers manage to avoid, which many of us think of as a great achievement, which just goes to show the world is full of paradox’s and Elvis impersonators.

Christmas is getting closer. . . . . So things sneak out from the attic.....

Today was an interesting day because it was windy here seriously windy with stuff blowing all over the place and the house and the trees getting a good old battering (not as in a fish supper). That is fair enough there have been a couple of storms lately, and so far we have been lucky and missed the worst of them, only there was no talk of storms today on the BBC weather so it was a bit of a surprise. I think because we are sort of out in the sticks means the fact it was windy enough to blow the cat off into the distance, which it was not happy about, so is now hiding in a box next to the Christmas tree is not news of interest to the masses. I bet if it was the queen’s cat or even the queen that was blown off into the distance it would be an entirely different story.

Did you notice a certain two words in that last paragraph  . . . .Christmas Tree . . . . . Yes it is that time of year again; we got the Christmas tree out again, and yes we have a fake tree but it looks real enough and it is overall far more eco friendly than having a real one. No it really is, after many years of buying trees with roots on and planting them outside afterwards we discovered that they really hate being inside and have a habit of sulking for the next twenty years, and anyway most folk buy trees with no roots which sort of die.

Sorry I will try to get better pictures tomorrow

So today we decorated the Christmas tree and remade the home-made Christmas Chandelier, something I think everyone should make. On advantage in doing this today was that there was no need to venture out into the wild winds too far although I was sent off to hunt for the fairy lights (we have loads of them) as they were in a safe place in the garage. I am not sure it was that safe in the garage at the time of looking for them as it was a bit bouncy, still the wind has subsided a bit now and I am about to go off and eat food. Actually although I have written this before I eat my tea I will be posting after I finish eating so as far as you lot are concerned I have eaten, Hake and spicy potato wedges . . . . . YUM which returns me right back to where I started with the wind battering the house….. So I will go.

As it happens when I said I will go . . . .  that was ages ago now, but I really am going now….

I am