‘Twas two weeks before Christmas and here in Dukes Close
The mother was getting exceeding morose
Three weeks of Covid and labyrinthitis
Had left her with anti-holiday-itis.
Enforced isolation surrounded by kin
Has left her in need of a very large gin.
We’ve watched both the Chronicles, the Muppets and Elf
My Christmas list is solely ‘some time to myself’.
Thing 2 had been nagging to get out the tree
There’s tinsel all over the cat, floor and me.
Their daddy was outside stringing up lights
Along with the rest of the road – what a sight!
There’s Santa and snowmen and snowflake projectors
And probably some cunning reindeer deflectors.
The turkey’s too big for the freezer this year
And Asda online’s substitions are weird
I asked for some candy canes for the tree
But they sent me a single tube of Smarties.
There’s pigs in their blankets and roasties of course
Yet again I’ve forgotten the cranberry sauce.
Upstairs the presents are rapidly stacking
My heart sinks anew at the prospect of wrapping
The stockings are still in the attic, sure enough
So ‘Santa’ had better go shopping for stuff
To fill up the socks so there’s something to open –
Has anyone noticed I’m really not copin’?
(*with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)
Pigs in blankets
What I’ve been reading:
Still Life/Dead Beat– Val McDermid
Laidlaw/The Papers of Tony Veitch/Strange Loyalties – William McIlvanney
The Dark Remains – Ian Rankin and William McIlvanney