Sepia Saturday 157

 

Whilst, looking for a suitable image for this week's SS, I came across this.  It reminded me of a time when the Grand-daughter stayed with us over the Christmas period.  Now your might have noticed that this is a little boy, but she was very Tom-Boyish, still a plays football for the County.  And, let's face it, this little lad is a bit girly.  He'd have a hell of a time where we come from.

 

 

Before I digress too far let's get back to the. story.

She was only four or five but insisted that we put up a stocking for Santa to fill. We, three grown-ups, tried to convince her that he couldn't get in because we lived in a mobile and didn't have a proper chimney. Her response was that he gets into our flat and we don't even have a fire-place. He Will get in; he's magic and invisible. Out argued by a child, we set about hanging up the stocking, setting a plate with a mince-pie and a glass of whiskey - she must have known the old-boy quite well, because she was certain that he liked mince-pies and whiskey (large) and also putting out a saucer of milk for his reindeer.

 

Eventually we got her to bed and to sleep, we sat back to rest a little.  The Stocking was filled, the other presents set under the Tree. The Scotch was drunk (thanks Santa) a bite was taken from the mince-pie and the saucer of milk was used to make tea. 

 

Sometime later we all went off to bed.  None of us, however, were due to get much sleep, because we were shortly awaken by shouts of joy - He's been, he's been , I nearly saw him, I heard him, heard him,  he left me some presents.  Half asleep, bare-footed, and trying to maintain the illusion, I walked towards the mantelpiece.  As I walked over I swear I felt something with stiff fur brush in to me.  There was a feint odour, just a fading hint, of the cattle byre.  As soon as it was experienced, it disappeared.  I was just about to dismiss it as a mental aberration when I trod in something that oozed between my toes.  It was warm, moist and obviously fresh, but I could not see it.  It was invisible, invisible reindeer poo.

 

It must have been magic because since then I've never suffered from athlete's foot or had cold feet.

 

Seasonal Greetings to all Sepialand