Winter Song

The time will come for everyone of us to say goodbye to all
We’ll meet again upon that distant shore
Where pain and misery will be
Just memories of what used to be
And happiness will reign for ever more

But it will not be as it should be
If I don’t have you standing next to me
Your love is all that I desire
It’s all I need, all I require
To make this happy day of life complete
To make this happy day of life complete

And as we come to the year’s end
With brothers, sisters, foes and friends
Both by our side and scattered round the Earth
The memories that we hold so dear
Of precious ones both far and near
The future starts now with our love’s rebirth

But it will not be as it should be
If I don’t have you standing next to me
Your love is all that I desire
It’s all I need, all I require
To make this happy day of life complete
To make this happy day of life complete

And as we gather round the fire
The flames of hope reach ever higher
All come and join beside us in the feast
Holding hands and in the calm
Sharing in this safe and warm
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace

The Truth About Santa Claus

Christmas should be a magical holiday. But how can you believe in magic when Reality keeps getting in the way? Then again, sometimes, even Reality has a few tricks.

Kids have a right to believe certain things. Should we believe in fairies and elves? Is Christmas a special time? Should we believe in Santa Claus?

I’m not sure whether you should believe this story. But I promise you, it could be true. I had gone into what had once been called "The Traveller’s Rest" for a couple of drinks before the evening shift at work. It was around tea-time, the shops were shutting and it was a bitingly cold, wet evening. Christmas was not far away, and all the decorations and coloured lights and other trappings of the so-called festive season just served to throw my own despondency into stark relief. This Christmas did not look like it was going to be one of the best of times. I was in a job I didn't like, which didn't pay enough to cover the bills on my credit cards. And my girlfriend was leaving me, at the end of the week. It was going to be a great Christmas.

I was slightly surprised to see, that quiet December evening, one of the barmaids standing on the other side of the bar, evidently on her day off, making a social call. She was chatting to one of the barmaids on duty, and a chap, who answered to the name of Chris and who I gathered was the manager. The barmaid off duty had brought with her a young girl, of about eight or so, probably her daughter, to show off to the other staff.

Chris, the manager, was explaining with great gusto and in great detail, all his clever plans to make the most money out of the forthcoming holiday season, especially Christmas and New Year's Eves. On the one hand, his know-all clever-dickness was getting on my nerves, on the other he just sounded like a guy who knew his job very well.

It was at this point that Chris decided to share another snippet of his vast range of knowledge with the little girl. "And I'll tell you something, Sarah, about Santa Claus."

"What?" asked Sarah, agog with anticipation. She'd probably been looking forward to Christmas for weeks, and the merest mention of Santa Claus stirred her excitement.

"Santa Claus doesn't exist!" Chris announced.

"What?" she said.

"Santa Claus doesn't exist."

"Yes he does," she said, with determination, defying him. "Course he does!"

"Course he doesn't," he insisted. "How could he? How many chimneys are there in the world? Millions, right? - " I was wondering when we'd get round to statistics again - "And how long does it take you to see just ten of your friends in an evening?"

She tried to answer him, but she was clearly worried. Seeing he had an audience that could not escape either his logic or his voice, he continued, "Santa Claus can't exist. He couldn't get down all then chimneys in one evening. And some people don't even have chimneys. So he can't exist."

"Yes he can," she insisted, "He's magic!"

"He's not magic," said Chris, "Santa Claus is dead! So you can forget about Santa turning up on Christmas Day. It ain't gonna happen."

There was nothing more she could say to that, and she fell silent.

I drained my glass and prepared to go. Just at that moment, the little girl got up and walked past me to look at a pinball machine by the door. She was still very quiet.

As I got level with her, on my way out, I leaned over to her, and said, quietly, "Don't you take any notice. Santa Claus does exist, you know?"

She said nothing, staring at her feet. I'd said what I had wanted to say, and my hand was almost on the door. Then, I said, "You do believe, don't you?"

She looked at me briefly, then her gaze returned, silent, to the floor.

"Listen," I tried again, " I know he exists. Because I've seen him."

This got her attention, at last. Her eyes were so big and dark, you could fall into them. "When?" she said.

"Well," I said, "it was a long time ago." I had to stop and think what to say next. I had a feeling it might be important. "It was a long time ago," I continued, "well, not all that long, really, when I was just a little bit older than you are now. And I was growing up, and one or two people - one or two silly older people who didn't really know anything really - were telling me that as I was growing up I shouldn't believe in Santa Claus any more. They told me Santa Claus didn't exist.

"Then it came round to Christmas, and I started saying, 'I don't believe in Santa Claus any more, he doesn't exist'. Though I felt a bit funny about it really."

"Why?" she said.

"Well, I'd always believed in Santa Claus before and I had always got lots and lots of really nice presents every Christmas, and here I was saying he didn't exist. That wasn't a very nice way of saying 'thank you,' was it? Hm?"

"Suppose so."

"And then it got to Christmas Eve, and I went to bed early, saying, 'I don't believe in Santa Claus.' And I settled down just to go to sleep. But I couldn't sleep. So I got up, and I went downstairs to where we had this big Christmas Tree. And there were presents all around the bottom of the tree, presents for every one. Every one, that is, except me."

Sarah looked suitably impressed by this.

"Every one had been left a present, except me. And it was all because I stopped believing. Because I had said Santa Claus didn't exist. And I ran out of the house, thinking, 'Oh no, it's too late, Santa's gone and not left me any presents, all because I didn't believe in Santa Claus.' And I bet you'll never guess what happened next!"

Sarah's eyes were firmly fixed on mine by now. "What happened?"

"I looked up in the sky, and that's when I saw Santa Claus! He was up there, in his sleigh, being pulled across the sky by his reindeer, and all their bells were ringing, and he had a big sack of presents on the back of his sleigh, the biggest sack you've ever seen. I called to him, 'Santa, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't believe in you! Come back!' But he was in a hurry. He had presents to deliver to all the other children, the ones that still believed in him. He didn't have time to waste on people who thought he didn't exist. But it was too late, now. Or so I thought." I gave her an inscrutable look.

"Why? What did you do?"

"Well, I went back in the house, and I couldn't believe my eyes. Because, there, all around the Christmas Tree where they had been presents for everyone else but me, there was an even bigger pile of presents!"

"An even bigger pile?"

"An even bigger pile! And all of them were for me. And there was a card, for me, too. Do you know who it was from?"

"Santa Claus!" she squealed.

"Yes, Santa Claus! And do you know what it said?"

"What?"

"It said 'Just Kidding'!"

"'Just kidding'?"

"That's right. Santa Claus was just kidding that he wasn't going to leave me any presents. He knew I still believed in him really. He just wanted to make sure I didn't forget!"

Sarah stared at me, her eyes twinkling. I watched her tiny bright face, and started to laugh. And she laughed too.

"So," I said, just glancing for a moment in the direction of Chris, "you'd better remember Santa Claus really does exist, because you've met someone who's actually seen him."

* * * * *

Well, I got in to my job and did a terrible night's work, and it got to the end of the week my girlfriend moved out, and then it was Christmas Eve. I was stuck in the house all alone, and no amount of trying to watch the banal pap that passed as festive entertainment on the TV was going to get me in the mood to celebrate anything. I had steadfastly turned down any offer from friends to go to any party or anyone's house, because I didn't want to turn up alone, and now I was regretting it. I decided to try the local pub, a dull pit of a place - at least the landlord would have restricted himself to a few paper streamers. It was a place I normally avoided, so there was no-one there that I knew, but I picked it tonight because it was in walking distance.

I thought briefly about all that cobblers I had told that little girl. Making her believe in fairy stories, when there was a real world to grow up into. What had I done? Poor little girl, I thought. "Stuff this," I said to myself, and I wandered off home.

When I got back to the house, I realised something was slightly different. I let myself in, and found the small reading light in the living room was on. I was certain that I had left it switched off when I had gone out. The house was quiet, but not in the deathly, isolated way it had seemed before, but peaceful and welcoming. In the little pool of light, on the coffee table, there were some packages. Someone had been in the house while I had been out.

There were various people who had a spare set of keys - my folks for instance, and my girlfriend, of course, and a set that were hidden under a plant pot outside the door, that several of our friends knew about. I figured that it could be any of them that had decided to call round, leaving whatever they had been doing that Christmas Eve in order to see me, and I'd been out. So they had left me some presents! I could hardly believe it. A feeling came over me that I could not describe. It was as if I had been standing for a tremendous time in a shadow, and now I had stepped out of it.

Suddenly, as daft as it sounds, I didn't feel lonely any more. I made up my mind that I would find out who the presents were from, and make sure that I went round and thanked whoever it was next day. And I wouldn't stay in on my own being a miserable git feeling sorry for myself, but I would get out and have a good time. After all , it was Christmas! A time to celebrate had to find who the presents were from, so that I could thank them, even if they were only pairs of socks, unbearable after-shave and a ghastly tie. They had really made my evening.

But the first thing I picked up was not a parcel, but a small envelope. I opened it, and a plain little card slid in to my hand. Inside, written in a wide, flowing handwriting - that I couldn't recognise and yet it looked familiar - was a two-word message.

It said, "Just kidding."

Then, at the bottom: "Thank you!"

It was the best Christmas I've ever had.

The end

12th December - half way there!

Presents piled under
the Christmas tree carefully
wrapped with silver bows

11th December (a day late!)

'Oh no he didn’t!'
the funny man shrieks, children
quiver, hiding eyes.

Humbug

The 'festive' season
Turkeys get a good stuffing
And so do Latics*

*Wigan Athletic.

9th December

Welcome to the blog Jan! Thanks for posting that wonderful haiku.

It doesn't have to just be haiku though everyone, how about a short story, article, longer poem, just so long as the theme is wintery, or Christmassy whichever.

On the Outside

Condensation obscures the view
through the window;
but I can see the fire
dancing, and shades of people
sharing wine and stories.
It’s dark outside
here in the cold,
the sound of their laughter
is just a shadow.

Christmas crowds bulge,
an overfilled stocking.
Knitted hats, plastic bags
stuffed to capacity.
There will be no candles
on my Christmas tree;
my stocking
stuffed with air.
It leaks through the holes
where the toe used to be.

Hear the church bells ringing,
singing the joy
of the season.
They do not ring
for me.
Here, on the outside,
I have all the friends I need.
I reach out an open hand,
and another one
turns to water.

(c) B Dale 2007

SNOW

Delicate soft lace,
floating down on frosty air.
Turning the world white

Coming to a community somewhere near you

Each Christmas alone
No reason to celebrate
Spirit is broken

6th December : A Question

Are Chorley Writers
lacking creativity
or festive spirit?

5th December

Sorrowful snowflakes
huddle on the porch dreaming
of a long winter.

4th December : more Haiku

Pine trees shiver in
uniform rows. A pale moon
turns branches silver.

I May Be Grumpy But I Believe I Have A Point

I have discovered
That I cannot do Haiku
Limericks instead.

The problem with Christmas festivities
Is that folk drift into activities
Neglect ‘babe in manger,
Have sex with a stranger!’
And other, still baser proclivities

People, who once had more sense
Spend hundreds of pounds just like pence
Where once there was prudence
There’s insane insouciance
And neglect for the reckoning hence

The respectable, who’d normally cringe
At thought of a boozy binge
Of a sudden indulge
Till their wrecked livers bulge
And their mental state loses its hinge

The thing that really amazes
When you think of Earth’s climactic phases
Little lights are festooned
By reckless baboons
While the planet can go to blazes

But the most obscene thing of all
That makes the festivities pall
Is seeing folk eat
Till they can’t see their feet
While one billion people will go to bed tonight starving

3rd December

Sudden rain bursts flood
the fields. Fat fronds of tinsel
float away downstream

Haiku

Build a fat Snowman
With a carrot for his nose
And coal for his eyes

2nd December : Haiku

A robin bobs from
behind a bush, its breast like
blood against the snow.

1st December (a day late!) : Haiku

Looking through windows
onto a winter landscape
prompts fond memories

It's a Chorley Advent

Hey everyone - how about adding a short post a day in the run up to Christmas - remember, it's a time for giving, a time for sharing... (well, that's what Cliff Richards said!). A Christmas Advent, courtesy of the talented Chorley Writers.

Aware 3 - we have lift off!!!!

Thanks to everyone who made it to the launch of Aware 3. I hope everyone had a good time (I certainly did) and thanks in particular to Peter Bird for helping us arrange this, and to Runshaw College for being very generous hosts. There were a couple of people who gave me their names and contact details on the night who are copied in on this e-mail (beware – you are now on the mailing list!), can I take this opportunity to extend a warm welcome to Trefor Lloyd and Jan Hartley – I hope to see you both at the meetings next year.

We have 32 copies of Aware 3 left to sell. If anyone would like to buy one please drop me an e-mail and we’ll work it out! Cover price is £1.50, to include post and packing this will be £2.00. Let me know if you’d be interested in buying one, or if you have any ideas for outlets in which we can sell them.

Thanks again to all the contributors, and to those who read on the night which were:

myself, Vicky Walsh, Carol Thistlethwaite, Peter Bird, Peter Cropper, Heather Richardson, and Dea Parkin who read Alan Gaskell’s piece ‘Hard-Wired’,

and again to Peter Bird, and Susanne Holt’s son Lawrence who provided some excellent musical entertainment.

Next steps for the group are to put together a programme for next year. If anyone has any suggestions please drop me an e-mail with your ideas. Susanne Holt at Runshaw College has suggested that perhaps we could get together again for a summer garden party, which sounds a great idea to me, and also pool our membership and invite some writer’s to speak at joint events.

Susanne has also extended an open invitation for Chorley Writers’ members to attend their Writers Forum. The next one is 13th January, and it runs from 18:30 – 21:00 ( I think – I’ll double check and if this is wrong I’ll circulate the right info!).

Is anyone attending any of the Lit-fest events next weekend? If so, let us know, and perhaps some of us can catch up there, or give us some feedback on how it all went!

I’ll be in touch again before Christmas, so I won’t wish you all a Merry Christmas just yet. Feel free to make use of the blog – I’ll invite our new members to join. How about adding a Christmas haiku, or short story? Call it the Chorley Writers’ Advent calendar.