IN TIMES LONG GONE

 

IN TIMES LONG GONE

“We have a son! I will teach him to be a good carpenter.”

“Are you sure? I know you promised but ...”

“Hush, Mary – I meant every word.”

She slept until voices woke her. “Find another shelter – my wife’s just had a baby.”

“The angel told us – that’s why we’re here.”

She moved her cloak aside, and weathered faces worshipped while baby hands bestowed blessings. But Joseph was protective. “You’ve seen him – now leave us in peace.”

“We all wish for peace,” they said, and returned to their flocks, leaving a lamb to warm mother and child.

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I was determined to squeeze a Christmas story out of whatever image Rochelle chose this week, and it was a struggle, but I hope you like it.

Too many people have talked and written about 'These Difficult Times' that I won't add to them, except to say that nothing can 'Cancel Christmas'. It will be different. For most of us it will be much quieter, which for some may be no bad thing. For others it will be sad, and they have my sympathy - I will not be able to visit my mother in her nursing home. But we will still celebrate whatever we believe in - the birth of Christ, or simply the love of family and friends - and it will be Christmas, despite Covid. 

Have a good one.

SURVIVING CHRISTMAS - a true story

SURVIVING CHRISTMAS

It’s a battle-zone for many.

Parents or in-laws, turkey or beef, the Queen’s speech or a film – all are triggers for armed conflict. Far too much food and booze, and enforced closeness with people only seen once a year.

My Mum got away from it all. The septic tank at my brother’s house broke under the strain of too much rain, and I managed to get her into a nursing home at very short notice. She had Christmas dinner with brother, tomorrow with us, and a pub meal to come next Sunday.

Who wishes they could do the same?

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Every word of this is true! It was a Christmas miracle in itself that the nursing home ten minutes' walk from my cottage had space for my 95-year-old Mum. She's actually having the time of her life, with people her own age to talk to, staff on hand when needed, and good food. Hopefully she'll only be there a couple of weeks while my brother gets his tank sorted out, but Mum and I are loving the fact that I can pop in frequently without the need to drive in the dark.

So thank you to Sandra Crook for the photo prompt, and to Rochelle for posting it in the middle of the festivities. See her blog for other stories. https://rochellewisoff.com/

Meanwhile, if you care to scroll down my blog you will find a handful of other seasonal stories I have written over the years and re-posted this morning. They come with my best wishes for a Happy Christmas and a prosperous 2020.

CHRISTMAS STORIES - a seasonal gift for everyone

Here are a few of the seasonal stories I have written over the years.
They come to wish you a very Happy Christmas and New Year 2020.
These pottery crib figures were a joint effort between me and my children about 40 years ago, and I bring them out each Christmas. I might not see my children every year now, but they are always in my heart.
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CHRISTMAS EVE AT THE DINER

 Sally’s feet ached. Christmas Eve had been a long, hard slog.

Lorry drivers had merely grabbed a burger without leaving a tip, every family had brought over-excited, noisy children, and someone had thrown up in the toilets.

The moment the last customer left, Sally grabbed the keys to lock up – with luck she’d be home before midnight – but just then a couple stumbled out of the darkness.

“Don’t lock us out,” the man pleaded, “My wife’s in labour,” and as Sally held the door open for them, one brilliant star came to rest in the night sky over the diner.

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NOT ALL SANTAS

 I still believed in Santa until he took off his red coat that time and hurt me – my own Pa!

This year I couldn’t face Christmas again so I packed my bag and hit the road.

I almost didn’t get into Brad’s truck when I saw his Santa hat, but I was more afraid of Pa catching me, so I chanced it.

Then Brad stopped at this diner and bought me dinner.

Here it comes – payment time, I thought, but he just showed me photos and talked about what he’s bought his kids.

Not all Santas are monsters after all.

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ROAST POTATOES

It wasn’t even a proper fight – he said his mother’s roast potatoes were crisper than mine, I said he could go home to his mother any time he liked, so he slammed out of the house. When I tried to stop him my hand went through the glass door.

Blood spurted everywhere, and before the ambulance got here I’d bled half to death.

Then the police got involved, accusing him of attempted murder, and when I said I’d done it to myself they assumed I’d tried to commit suicide.

How can I tell a shrink it was all caused by roast potatoes?

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SABU’S CHRISTMAS GIFT

 Sabu’s baby sister’s death from cholera was the final straw – wearing only shorts and rubber sandals he walked to the city, his mother’s wails ringing in his ears.

He swept a school in exchange for lessons, ate the scrapings of more privileged students’ plates, slept in his broom cupboard.

Each Christmas he walked home – each year there was one child less in the village.

It took him five years to qualify, two more to earn enough, but finally he drove a rattling lorry home, where eager hands helped him unload its contents.

On Christmas Day clean water began flowing from Sabu’s pump.

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SINCE  GOD  WAS  A  BOY

 Paco’s ancestors had been goatherds since God was a boy – his grandfather maintained it was goatherds who visited the stable when Jesus was born, but the gospellers called them shepherds because goats were too common.

 Paco loved his work. It was usually undemanding – you walked, the goats ate everything in sight, you moved on. He much preferred the gentle clonking of their bells to the honking of car horns in town.

 But today the graveyard needed cropping, the wall would contain the herd while he ate his mother’s Christmas dinner, and he’d get a decent wifi signal on his phone for once.

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IF IT HAPPENED NOW

“What’s up, babe? Your latte’s getting cold.”

“I’ve gone off coffee, Joe – get me an orange juice instead.”

Joe returned from the counter wearing a worried frown, “You’ve been moody all week and now you’ve gone off coffee – are you breaking up with me?”

Mary couldn’t meet his soft brown eyes. “You might want to dump me when I tell you – I’m having a baby.”

“I’m going to be a dad? That’s brilliant!”

“It’s not yours.” The words dropped like a stone between them and Joe leapt up so violently that other customers stared. “Whose is it then? I thought you loved me.”

Mary shrugged helplessly. “I do love you, Joe, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“You mean someone forced you? I’ll bloody kill him!”

“It wasn’t like that. This angel turned up and told me God’s been watching me and decided I’m the right one to have His baby. The angel said this baby will save the world one day.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Joe’s voice dripped scorn.

Mary shrank back in her seat, her hands protecting her belly, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself, but it’s the truth. I’m dreading telling Mum and Dad.”

Joe sat down slowly and wiped her tears with his calloused carpenter’s thumbs. “I can’t deny it’s a bit of a shock, Mary,” he said gently, “But I love you and we’ll work it out.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

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THAT'S ALL FOLKS!  Thanks for reading - feel free to leave a comment.

ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY 25

HAPPY CHRISTMAS to all my readers, friends and followers!

This is the last window of my Christmas calendar, and I'm missing Apollo 13 to write it. I was up early to fetch my mother for the day and there's not been a free moment since, but I am determined to finish the challenge. Today's was to write a story with myself in the centre, and I had to write a feel-good story on this day of all days., didn't I? I hope you like it, and will continue to read the stories I post on my blog each week. Also, when you buy my latest book WOLF PACK, or either of my other two novels, A VOLCANIC RACE and HELTER-SKELTER (which I wrote as Elizabeth Young) do please consider leaving a review on Amazon. It would make my year in 2019. 

NOT  AS  PLANNED

Christmas has never been the same since the kids left home – just Keith and me, a turkey crown, a bottle of red, and the Queen’s speech. We went to a hotel one year, but all that forced jollity was appalling so we didn’t repeat it.

This year was going to be more of the same until Fate took a hand – or rather, took my hand. I was coming out of the Co-op after buying a carton of cream to pour over our individual Christmas puddings, when a woman coming the other way let her dog lead wrap round my ankle and down I went. She was full of apologies and drove me to hospital, then home again with my wrist in plaster and, long story short, invited us both to Christmas dinner.

It was bliss - a house full of enticing smells, warmth and noise – and with my wrist in a plaster I couldn’t lift a finger to help  

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY 19 - ONLY WORN ONCE - a story in 100 words

Today I am combining my Advent Calendar with my weekly Friday Fctioneers' flash fiction.

The Advent challenge was to write a story, changing it as it progresses so that the ending is a surprise even to oneself. I suspect the lovely people who set these challenges have twisted minds!

SO - as the FF photo was first published five years ago, I have resurrected the story I wrote then, and changed it. Several times. I was thinking of making it a murder but it didn't turn out that way!

ONLY  WORN  ONCE

He removed the wrapping paper. "They're great - the right size, too," but he couldn't hide his disappointment. 

She smiled with relief - she couldn't afford the Berghaus boots he'd wanted. "You can wear them on holiday.”

As he expected, the boots rubbed, and halfway through their first hike he removed them, claiming his feet needed to breathe.

"Look at the view," she said.

"Never mind the view - I need a leak,” he said and vaulted over the wall. Not surprisingly, the hundred-foot drop killed him.

She coped well with the shock, finishing her holiday by the pool. 

When she arrived home she sold the boots on Ebay – ‘Only worn once’.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Adam Ickes for the photo of the boots. Looking back through my archives, I think the original of my story may even have been my very first stab at FF.

As our next photo prompt isn't due until December 26th, I will take this opportunity to wish all my readers a very Happy Christmas, and to remind you that a book makes a wonderful gift, to give to someone or to keep. My latest book WOLF PACK is now out on Amazon in print and ebook - you can find it by clicking on the book cover at the top of my page. WOLF PACK is the second in my Living Rock series, the first of which was A Volcanic Race.

ADVENT CALENDAR DAY EIGHTEEN

The challenge for today is to write a story with a list, without any connecting phrases - just the bare list. It didn't inspire me with much enthusiasm, but in the end I wrote the kind of list one might make before a Christmas spent away. I hope you can visualize the family I imagined?

Things to Take to Gerry’s

Pink jumper M&S for Mum

Dad - flat cap / must be grey dogtooth check

Gerry - denim shirt / pref. Dark blue

Samantha – smellies / Body Shop?

Tiffany - goth make-up or skull necklace

Ollie – defo deodorant

Prosecco / Baileys / Mint chocs

Gaviscon / Paracetomol

Cigarettes / Hip flask of brandy / Phone!!!

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ADVENT CALENDAR - DAY SEVENTEEN

Today's challenge breaks one of the Cardinal Rules of Writing - we were asked to write a story with LOTS of repetition in it. We were also invited to add a poetic slant but, what with shopping, cooking and gardening to do, the title of my piece will have to suffice. I am sure every parent out there will relate to this story. 

JINGLE BELLS

‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!’

Jingle Bells is not my favourite Christmas song at the best of times, but Jingle Bells at five in the morning is taking the piss. I yelled ‘Shut up!’ and the noise stopped – for about five minutes. I was just dropping off to sleep when I heard Jake start up singing Jingle Bells again, in what he fondly considers a whisper, so I gave up and went downstairs to make a cup of tea.

I’m a dreadful parent, I know. Jingle Bells is the song Jake is learning for the school concert, but I’ve listened to him sing Jingle Bells in the car on the school run for a fortnight, and teatime has been accompanied by the musical rendition of Jingle Bells. To be honest, Jake hasn’t got the tune of Jingle Bells quite right, and when he sings ‘Jingle bells’ at full volume, Mrs Smith from next door bangs on the wall.

The moment the concert is over I am going to ban Jingle Bells for the rest of the festive season, even if I have to throw Jake out into the snow – or at least send him round to his Nan, who I am sure would delight in hearing him sing Jingle Bells ad nauseam.

SABU'S CHRISTMAS GIFT - a story in one hundred words

SABU’S CHRISTMAS GIFT

Sabu’s baby sister’s death from cholera was the final straw – wearing only shorts and rubber sandals he walked to the city, his mother’s wails ringing in his ears.

He swept a school in exchange for lessons, ate the scrapings of more privileged students’ plates, slept in his broom cupboard.

Each Christmas he walked home – each year there was one child less.

It took him five years to qualify, two more to earn enough, but finally he drove a rattling lorry home, where eager hands helped him unload its contents.

On New Year’s Day clean water began flowing from Sabu’s pump.

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Ted Schulz's photo prompted this story, although I rejected several other ideas along the way! Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers - and as I'm off to my brother's house for lunch Right Now I shall leave you with best wishes to a prosperous 2018 and sign off. Bye!!

NOT ALL SANTAS

NOT ALL SANTAS

I still believed in Santa until he took off his red outfit that time and hurt me – my own Pa – but this year I couldn’t face Christmas again so I packed my bag and quit

I almost didn’t get into Brad’s truck when I saw his Santa hat, but I was more afraid of Pa catching me, so I chanced it.

Then Brad stopped at this diner and bought me dinner and I thought, Here it comes – payment time, but he just showed me photos and talked about what he’d bought for his kids.

Not all Santas are monsters after all.

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Finding a Christmas story to fit the photo prompt wasn't easy this year, but I've managed it. Also if you scroll down you will find a slightly longer Christmas story I wrote at the weekend. 

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/, from whence you can follow the link to read how other writers interpreted Roger Bultot's photograph.

Please leave comments on my stories before you go, and I wish you all a very Happy Christmas, and Happy Holidays to those of different faiths or none.

IF IT HAPPENED NOW

IF IT HAPPENED NOW - A STORY FOR CHRISTMAS

“What’s up, babe? Your latte’s getting cold.”

“I’ve gone off coffee, Joe – get me an orange juice instead.”

Joe returned from the counter wearing a worried frown, “You’ve been moody all week and now you’ve gone off coffee – are you breaking up with me?”

Mary couldn’t meet his soft brown eyes. “You might want to dump me when I tell you – I’m having a baby.”

“I’m going to be a dad? That’s brilliant!”

“It’s not yours.” The words dropped like a stone between them and Joe leapt up so violently that other customers stared. “Whose is it then? I thought you loved me.”

Mary shrugged helplessly. “I do love you, Joe, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“You mean someone forced you? I’ll bloody kill him!”

“It wasn’t like that. This angel turned up and told me God’s been watching me and decided I’m the right one to have His baby. The angel said this baby will save the world one day.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Joe’s voice dripped scorn.

Mary shrank back in her seat, her hands protecting her belly, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself, but it’s the truth. I’m dreading telling Mum and Dad.”

Joe sat down slowly and wiped her tears with his calloused carpenter’s thumbs, “I can’t deny it’s a bit of a shock, Mary,” he said gently, “But I love you and we’ll work it out.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Written for no particular reason other than the need to do so! Leave a comment if you'd like to, and I wish you a very Happy Christmas. Thank you for staying with me and reading my blog through the year. Lizy.

STABLE - a Christmas story

STABLE

“We have a son! I will teach him to be a good carpenter.”

“Are you sure? I know you promised but . . .”

“Hush, wife – I meant every word – now sleep.”

She lay back on the straw holding her son to her breast and slept until voices woke her.

“Find another shelter – my wife’s just had a baby.”

“We know; we were told to come – we’ll leave the flock outside.”

She moved her veil aside to show the child, and weathered faces worshipped while his baby hands bestowed blessings.

“You’ve seen him,” Joseph said, “Now leave us in peace.”

“We all wish for peace,” they said and departed, leaving a lamb behind – mother and baby snuggled into its warm fleece and were comforted.

Later, more visitors came, rivalling the star-shine with their gifts, and as Joseph hid the treasures from thieves his last doubts vanished - Mary’s story of an angel was true.

That night Mary woke weeping. “I had a dream,” she sobbed into Joseph’s arms and he said, only half in jest, “Not another one!”

“I dreamed he was sold for thirty pieces of silver.”

“Our son will be a simple carpenter, wife – who would sell him?”

                                                             *********************

There's no 100 word challenge this week, so I chose a story that I wrote a year ago in response to a different forum's challenge to write 200 words inspired by the word SILVER.

The photograph I have used is of the crib at Reina Sofia Airport in Tenerife, where I live.

Thank you for reading my blog, and for the lovely comments I have received over the year.

I WISH YOU ALL A HAPPY AND SUCCESSFUL 2015.

KIKA

KIKA

Kika died yesterday. We're not sure how old she was, but she had lived with us for thirteen and a half years. When we moved into our apartment in June 2000 we hadn't planned on having a cat, but Kika had other ideas.

It was the Sunday before Christmas 2000 and we had invited about 16 people for a full English breakfast. This was a tradition we started in England, where the numbers had grown to over 30 and had to be fed in relays in our tiny cottage.
For our first party here in Tenerife we planned to eat on the terrace, but it would still be a logistical challenge.

At four in the morning we heard noises outside our bedroom window, and when we investigated we discovered this beautiful cat had moved her four kittens into one of our plant pots.
 There they stayed throughout the party - watching us while we watched them, but not moving. The mother cat graciously accepted smoked salmon, bacon and pieces of sausage - clearly she had been domesticated - but the kittens were wild and hissing. Even so, they were obviously not going to be deterred.

That afternoon - slightly merry - I made them a bed out of a washing basket and they moved in properly.
We knew we wanted to keep the mother and we called her Kika. She and her kittens all lived on the terrace, through rainstorms and the fireworks of New Year, and it took several weeks for Kika to persuade her brood to come indoors. She saw off an Alsation which thought it could attack her kittens, and came to us for help when she couldn't round them all up at once after a thunderstorm. We enjoyed their company for a month but then we caught and rehomed the kittens.



Kika stayed. She would wait on the wall of the pool for us to come home,
and then weave through the railing or turn somersaults on the path in front of us,

In her last few months she acquired considerable street cred by sitting on the steps of the local bar while we had a drink, and on one occasion she leapt onto the back of a passing dog, which fled in terror. 

She was a lovely cat, a favourite with the entire neighbourhood, and we will miss her badly. RIP Kika XX

POINSETTIA CHRISTMAS

One of my friends said the other day, "You can never have too many poinsettias."
So I have taken that as permission to post the best of my poinsettia collection as a pictorial Christmas card.

This one I photographed on my walk this morning - it was lovely to see the actual flowers which are normally so insignificant.

The next few I found in a local garden centre where I bought this year's plant.

Then there are those adorning balconies all over Tenerife . . .

. . .  an entire hedge of the pompom variety between a banana plantation and the road . . .

. . . and a less showy variety in a garden near us.

This last picture is a close-up of our poinsettia from 2012 which came back to life and put on a brave show earlier this year, then turned up its toes (roots?) last month. We assume this was a deliberate built-in obsolescence - a ploy to make us buy another one.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!

SHOW AND TELL SUNDAY

poinsettia

First things first - apologies for absence. I have been busy lately rewriting a novel - I'll tell you about that another time - and my blogs have been infrequent, to say the least. So I have decided to kick-start it again with a "Show and Tell Sunday", and if I have any followers and visitors left, please leave a comment to encourage me to continue!


Christmas is coming in Tenerife as well as the rest of the world, and one of our first signs is the poinsettias coming back to full colour in the gardens. We also have Los Reyes - The Kings - waiting on the roundabout to be lit up at night.


For those of you who have been following the avalanche story - here is this morning's set of photographs.
When the workmen told me it would take twenty days, they should have added 'probablemente' - this is manana country, after all!


People have been blaming the rock-fall on the heavy rain we had two days earlier - our first in over a year - but I think it is more likely to be due to the banana plantation perched on top. This is a closeup of the cliff through which they cut the access road when building the autopista 25 or so years ago -  Huge rocks, so heavy that I cannot lift a head-sized one - interspersed with gravel layers riddled with holes in which the local pigeons nest.

Twenty-five years of steadily-seeping water - we are lucky there wasn't a school built at the base of the cliff.

Steady as a rock? I will never use that phrase again without visualising this - and  yes, that side road really IS that steep!

XMAS LIGHTS

The Three Kings stand on the roundabout to welcome drivers to Parque de la Reina, Tenerife.





Every lamp-post is adorned with three wrapped presents, courtesy of the Cabildo, and our local bar El Leones shines out into the night like a guiding star..

My camera is only a £90 Samsung and my hand might not have been quite steady, but these two pictures show that even in Tenerife we have Christmas lights.

FELIZ NAVIDAD A TODO

THE END OF THE WORLD....

.... isn't just nigh - it's here!
December 21st 2012 - 21.12.12 if you're English, 12.21.12 if you're American. Maybe there was something signinifant in those numbers to the Mayans.
Of course, it is also possible that the 'experts' read the hieroglyphs wrong.
It's a great design though, and has been copied over and over in different forms, from jewellery to stargates, so the Mayans aren't forgotten.

On a cheerier note, and assuming we make it through today, here are two photos io my home-made Christmas tree as an online Christmas card to everyone.

 It's made from two wire coathangers, green garlands, baubles and a string of lights.
The first lot of lights died after a week so I had to unwind them and buy more. When I got them out of the box I discovered they aren't Chinese, they're Russian, and its took a firm hand to make the damn things plug into the extension lead. Still, they're flashing prettily now, and my tree hangs tidily out of the way on the wall.

 I would like to thank my fifty followers for finding my blog interesting enough to add their names, and a special thank you to those of you who leave comments. It is always lovely to get feedback - it reminds me I am not whistling in the dark!

.HAPPY CHRISTMAS!

BAH ! HUMBUG !!

It's here!
Christmas.
It's unavoidable.
We went to buy plant-pot dishes to go underneath the two ficus that survived being ripped out by the incompetent gardeners the community employed, and we were surrounded by polar bears.

So we bought a poinsettia to display on our terrace table. I shall have to get out the rope lights as well now, to show we're joining in the spirit of Christmas.

When we got home there were three Christmas cards in the letter-box. 'Oh bother!' I cried. Once again I've been caught with my pants down - I haven't sent even one card yet.

Bah! Humbug!

WATCH OUT - THEY'RE AFTER YOU!

Long-term residents of Tenerife know they must be extra careful not to violate any traffic laws in the weeks before Christmas. Even the slightest infringement can get you pulled over, whereas at other times of year we see the most appalling drivers getting off scot free. We have always joked that the Traffic Police are after their Christmas bonuses from November onwards.

Now we learn that it isn't a joke - it's official. The Guardia Civil bosses have told all their officers that they have been falling behind in their duties, and that if they don't fine more drivers they will not get their 240 euro annual bonuses. That's scary.

It is difficult to get the better of the police, but the other day I heard about one man who foiled their plans. He was stopped for having his fog lights on unnecessarily and told he could pay a 100 euro fine on the spot.
"No thanks, I'll go to court," he said.
"But that will cost you more."
"It will take years to get to court in this country, and I'll be dead by then - I've got terminal cancer. Will there be anything else or can I go now?"