Barbara Algie gets in festive mood!

Why in the Southern Hemisphere do we consider it’s not enough to celebrate Christmas once a year and deem it fashionable to have another one in mid-June when, admittedly, lower temperatures tickle the taste buds for food, lots of food, and all that goes with it?   Once the magic word ‘Christmas’ is out,  sufferers of Writers Block rush to find recipes by Mrs Beaton, Aunt Daisy, or one of the new, modern authors setting out  57 ways to stuff a turkey, whilst regretting not having written the damned cookery book themselves.   Every week book launches are taking place in this genre emphasising its extraordinary ongoing popularity.    So, why didn’t we think of that?   We could have called ours ‘Cooks Tips with Cooks Nips’, ‘The Hungry Writers Handbook’ or even ‘Handy Hints – How to train Hopeless House Husbands’ (the latter being the ‘in thing’ with its titillatingly long title).   Ah well - it costs nothing to dream.   Back to writing ...  Back too to the festive season.   Not that silly non-event in the middle of the year but the one which is still about a month away – although one would think, by its sudden appearance in the shops, it is tomorrow.   Stroll down to your local town centre, you’ll find the telegraph poles are festooned with sparkling garlands.   Fir tree have sprouted overnight into forests in the Shopping Malls and we’re being brainwashed into buying early to ‘avoid the rush’.   Greetings cards are suddenly half price as an incentive to put you in the mood.   Which brings me to think about Santa.   I wonder what qualifications a new-age Santa ought to possess?   His knowledge of formerly acceptable presents, once quite straightforward, may fall well short of the mark with today’s high-tech-minded children.   And Santa himself - who was once so jovially old-fashioned, rotund and with an unbelievable cottonwool beard - wouldn’t fool the keen eyes of any smart 4 year old so how, I wonder,  will he look this year?

T’was the Night Before Christmas and all through the house
everybody was partying, even the mouse
The stockings that should have been hung by the fire
were on shapely legs for all to admire
Grandma did the Can-can but baulked at the splits
Grandpa told the fairies he loved them to bits
Sylvester the cat was dancing the Twist
with Nippy the Dachshund who looked a bit pissed
With his reindeer in ‘drag’ Santa turned out the lights
took out his whip – pulled on black fishnet tights
‘Get your A’s into G, we’ve a long way to go
Merry Christmas to all and to all HO HO HO!’