Santa Claus

HE comes in the night! He comes in the night!
He softly, silently comes;
While the little brown heads on the pillows so white
Are dreaming of bugles and drums.

He cuts through the snow like a ship through the foam,
While the white flakes around him whirl;
Who tells him I know not, but he findeth the home
Of each good little boy and girl.

His sleigh it is long, and deep, and wide;
It will carry a host of things,
While dozens of drums hang over the side,
With the sticks sticking under the strings.

And yet not the sound of a drum is heard,
Not a bugle blast is blown,
As he mounts to the chimney-top like a bird,
And drops to the hearth like a stone.

The little red stockings he silently fills
Till the stockings will hold no more;
The bright little sleds for the great snow hills
Are quickly set down on the floor.

Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird,
And glides to his seat in the sleigh;
Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard
As he noiselessly gallops away.

He rides to the East, and he rides to the West,
Of his goodies he touches not one;
He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast
When the dear little folks are done.

Old Santa Claus doeth all he can,
This beautiful mission is his;
Then, children, be good to the little old man
When you find who the little man is.

One my childhood Christmas traditions until I was perhaps eight or nine years old was that my mum would read the above poem to me on Christmas Eve when I went to bed. On the last year, before I decided I should read the poem myself, the last line of the poem peeked my then virgining perception. When you find who the little man is. I asked my mother what this line meant and it was in her reply, a smile with eyebrows raised and fained profession that she did not know the meaning, that the truth was made clear to me.

I said nothing at the time, I had for several years believed that I did indeed look out of my window one late Christmas Eve and see a blur in the distance of reindeer dancing across the sky with sleigh following at their hinds. Such wonderful delusions have no doubt fought off the disappointing truth in many children over the years, but regrettably, I was quite a sober sided child and logic slowly chipped away at fantasy and I was left with one sure and sad reality; There is no Santa Claus.

And so I have believed (or not, as the case may be) until now.

Now you're getting worried about me, I can tell, but I swear to you that Father Christmas is a real. What I never realised and have never took the time to analyse is something a child cannot know. For all these years I never really understood that last line - When you find who the little man is. Of course I know that it was our parents wrapping those gifts and placing them under the tree while we slept, but don't you see? They are Santa Claus. It's so much bigger than an anonymous bearded man – it is their love for you. Quantified as best they can and wrapped in bright colours, brought to you by a magical being clothed in red – it is their love for you. Santa Claus is a feeling. It is the warmth you feel by giving to others and bringing them joy.

For Children Santa Claus is essential. When you learn where the presents come from you may begin to feel guilty about what is spent on; you realise the price of your joy. Children must never know this. It must be magical for them. They must believe, for as long as their development will allow, in the magic of Christmas, the magic of Santa Claus.

My realisation about Old St. Nick came to me on a sleepless night like tonight last Monday. That was the night that that my best friend and his fiancée became both parents and, of course Santa Claus, to their daughter Zoe. She could not ask for a greater gift than her parents.

Merry Christmas to the new, the old and the in-between, I hope Santa is good to you all this year.

Couch-Face

I slept on the couch last night. My sleeping arrangements were not born out of cross words of hurt feelings but, rather ironically, my increasing inability to sleep. I went to bed late, I know I shouldn't but the alternative is to go to bed early, toss and turn (therefore disturbing Michelle's sleep) and then get up, so I went to bed late. When I got there I found Michelle sprawled in the centre of the bed with a cat flanking each side of her. Normally, of course, I would move one of the cats, except that looking at the three of them, cuddled up and comfortable and knowing the inevitable disruption I would bring to each of them I opted to leave my little family in peace.

I slept for six hours and have been up and awake for four and a quarter hours yet, much to my disbelief, my face is still ingrained with vertical lines down my right side. Couch-face; is the term for my appearance. The short-term affliction is in fact a common occurrence amongst nap takers, disgruntled spouses and other such sofa snoozers, however the temporary disfigurement, on most, only lasts for roughly thirty minutes! Here I am on nearing the end of my ninth cycle of that time frame and the markings, though admittedly not as prominent, are still plainly visible!

It's not a great worry I admit, but still, I've been out and about! The problem could be circulatory; should the blood flow not pump out such ingraining of the body? I have to admit though I 'm kind of curious as to what other shapes my play-dough like mug can retain… Perhaps when you see me next I'll have the faint outline of a duck or a star or some other cookie cutter image on my cheek.

'Till then.

THIS WEEK
I Watched: - Lady in the Water, I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With and Infamous.
I Read: - The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson.
I listened to:- N/A

Annie

He sits by the bed and is surprised to see the old woman look at him with a clarity that defies the morphine pumped into her veins. Their eyes meet only for seconds before her eyes close again and she is gone. This is how my father's week began and how my grandmother's life ended.

Annie was my Grandmother, my Nanny. After my Papa, Jimmy, died in December Annie's mind became increasingly confused. I believe that she could simply not accept his passing so instead retreated her thoughts to earlier years and events imagined. Despite her confusion in the end Annie still knew her mind in as much as that she knew what she wanted, a strong will to compensate for her failing mind. Her wit never suffered much either, and if I think about her now I think about how she made me laugh.

Annie, like Jimmy, was one of life's great characters. Her generation has such a rich history due to circumstances of the era that in all likelihood characters such as herself will never be seen by this world again. Her mother died when she was fourteen making her tough before she should have been. When war broke out she worked in a munitions factory and drove a steam truck. I cannot imagine what her life must have been like in those years. It's hard to visualise my wee Nanny at the wheel of that big truck.

She once told me a story of walking home from her work with her friend one day when a man grabbed the two of them, flung them over a wall and lay on top of them. I was shocked; believing that she was telling me that his man was attacking her! "no," she said at the time "the planes were bombing us and he was protecting us from the rubble." An unimaginable time to be alive I think you will agree.

I'll finish off now with the short passage I wrote for Annie's order of service. Her passing is a sad occasion but I the end I think those that knew her knew that without Jimmy this world was too lonely a place for her to stay.

Together Again

nnie was a loving mother, grandmother and great grandmother, however, her greatest love was undeniably Jimmy. Some of the last words Annie spoke were to say that Jimmy was "keeping a place" for her and we know that she is now in that place, happy to be together again and for all time.

Annie Ambrose

1923—2008

The People I Know – Michelle: Conclusion

I worked my way through the crowded club with the guilt moving up my spine and turning to fear. It is not fear of reprisal or harm but rather the much more potent and damaging fear that I might have hurt someone I love. What a day it was, one of the best of my life and not only for how it ended, but still, what a day to hurt a friend; on their own birthday.

"Sparkie," I said "I need to talk to you,"

He looks at me with eyes clouded by the copious amounts of alcohol which had been consumed over the course of the entire day. Slowly I saw him focus and come close so as to hear what I had to say over the din of club "What's up?" he said and then I told him. He looked up wide eyed with surprise that gave way to a smile. He shook my hand, pat my back and sent me back to her. He had given me his blessing to break the code, and for the second time that night I take the girl who will one day be my wife in my arms and kiss her deeply.

Weeks passed before I realised I love her. She said it first but the feeling was there long before. We spoke of marriage very early on, but at one point I asked Michelle to stop, believing that our constant talk would taint the things that would come; proposal, engagement, living together, the wedding and the marriage its self. Four years later that we decide to go to Dublin for a long weekend. Michelle had always wanted to go and I decided that this would be the place I ask her to marry me. And the time I was still at college and did not have a job, but I did have savings, plenty to buy the ring my sister helped me pick out. On the 5^th June 2003 we decided to go to the little town of Bray, an old sea side resort. It was a wet and miserable day and Michelle was unhappy to come all that way for a beach with no sun. I suggest to her we make the best of it and pick stones from the pebble beach. As we walked along Michelle turned to me as I asked her what she thought of the stone I had and found me on my knee presenting the ring.

Only months passed and we were in the flat that we had went to see the week we came back from Ireland. Three years from the day we move in I turn to see a vision in red walk down the isle and to my side. The wedding was much larger than planned but an unqualified success by all accounts, undoubtedly another day I consider the best of my life, just as the day we were first together.

I am lucky in love. A love like ours; so compatible and comfortable, is a rare and treasured thing. The sight of Michelle can't help but put a smile on my face and I still get excited at the prospect of seeing her. It is an unquantifiable pleasure to know Michelle and have her at my side through life, for her to love me as I love her is an indescribable experience. We should all of us be so lucky.

THIS WEEK
I Watched: - The Good Shepherd
I Read: - The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman
I listened to: - Started a Fire by One Night Only

 

The People I Know – Michelle: Part 2

Of course, I did not steal my best friends' girlfriend. Sparkie and Michelle had a short lived relationship and were rarely in contact with one another for most part of it. Their coupling ended in a fairly amicable way, mostly due to the fact that, on the whole, people find being angry at Sparkie a strangely difficult thing to sustain.

Months after the break-up Sparkie and I met a girl with extremely short and bright red hair in the nightclub Plush. The girl seemed to talk in a way that suggested that she knew us fairly well and that she had not seen us for quite some time. We talked and joked along with her, said what we'd been up to in the most vanilla of terms and then we parted ways. Sparkie and I walked back to our seats, and when seated Sparkie turned to me with a familiar smile, a kind of awkward/confused almost grin, and said "Do you have any idea who that was?" Sparkie has a terrible memory and I have on many occasions had to prompt his memory about the people that stop him to say hello, but I had to admit that on this occasion that I shared his confusion, I had no idea who the red haired girl was.

My memory at this point is quite hazy on details and so I may be condensing the happenings of a week or two into this single night. I do know that it was that same night that Sparkie or I worked out who the girl with the bright red hair was. In fairness, it was dark and the hair kind of held your attention, so you'll forgive us for connecting the girl in front of us with girl we had known with black hair highlighted with blue streaks months before. As I said I can't quite remember the details of the night from that point, whether we purposely sought out Michelle or if we just bumped into each other again I'm not a hundred percent sure, but we did meet again.

My next immediate memory of Michelle sitting outside The Victor chip shop on Conrwall Way facing the East Kilbride Bus Terminal. We sat on the ground with our backs against the window and the shop had shut making it at least 4am but most likely later. Sparkie had long since wondered off into the either of the night as he so often does, I had met some work mates from my then place of employment McDonalds (my first job) and they, along with some of Michelle's friends and probably some other stragglers, laughed and joked their way through replays of that night and many others while Michelle and I sat and talked and watched. I always loved the aftermath of the dancing in those days; it was my favourite part in fact.

At some point, sitting on the cold ground with the sun fast approaching Michelle put her head on my shoulder. Not an extraordinary thing to do at all, but the strange thing was that I was fine with it, I even liked it. I never liked to be touched much, I'm not as bad now, back then a touch could burn right though me, but with Michelle, as it had felt when we first talked, I was comfortable. It was then that the possibility that I might be with her entered my head. Before that I may have considered that I would like it if she were with me but I was bound by honour to my friend. You don't go out with your best friends ex. That's the rule. That night she took my arm, and her best friend that she had introduced me to that night, Laura, took the other and we danced to the taxi rank singing New York, New York in a way that kids do when you feel alive and that you own the night. As we danced and I sang it was the rule that that kept the smile from my eyes. You don't go out with your best friends ex taunted the rule, but worst of all, I knew it was right.

To be continued.

THIS WEEK
I Watched: - The 40 Year Old Virgin, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, Crimson Tide.
I Read: - Quite Ugly One Morning by Christopher Brookmyre.
I listened to: - N/A

The People I Know - Michelle

Michelle is unlike any person I have ever met in as much as that from the very first time that I met her she made me feel comfortable. This may seem like an odd thing to say but, for me, it meant a great deal. I'm not good with people, I don't want to get to know them and in very general terms I don't like them. When I meet a new person I often wait until I have someone with me in order that they can take the lead in the conversation and I can stay in the background watching, listening and learning. I watch for facial expressions, listen to tone of voice and judge what kind of person they are before I entertain the notion that I might get to like them. I class myself as an excellent judge of character, by watching and listening I can gauge a person a several levels, detecting why they move like that, or said something in such a way and I mark it all down in my invisible score card. I don't know what the score card says or even how it's marked but Michelle ticked all the boxes in minutes in a way that I've never been able to explain.

The best and quickest way to mark my score card is to watch a person interact with David. David is my best friend (one of the two best friends I'm lucky to have) he is forthright in a way that is almost combative, he likes to joke at your expense (never cruel and mostly impersonal) and his own barometer as to whether you and he will get along is if you can laugh along and give as good as you get. David's barometer is much harsher than mine and far less forgiving but his imposing introduction is effective and efficient.

David and I met Michelle long ago and the inns and out of what was said has been lost in time. What I do remember about our first meeting though was that after laughing off a few of David's jokes about her, at the time, partially blue hair, Michelle turned to me and said "You're Craig Ambrose." As it turns out this first meeting, the first meeting I can remember, was not our first at all. It turned out that I had been at school with Michelle for a full year; Primary Six.

I could not remember her at all but this was not uncommon for me. I was 17 at the time and at some point long before the memories of much of my early childhood was lost to me. I had been the fat kid at school until 2^nd year when I grew tall and broad. I became someone else for the first time when I grew and what had been before seemed and still seems like a past life. Michelle talked to me that day about our interactions from that our life as children. About races at the swimming and missing dinner tickets and the sullen little boy she knew but barely spoke to. At some point we noticed a Yin/Yang pendant in the room and had a good natured argument about which side represented earth and which represented water (we both still maintain that we were correct). When we spoke it was like we were the only two people in the room. The room belonged Margaret and David Hamilton and was at the time occupied by their two sons Mark and Andrew, the former of whom was know to all as Sparkie and who is the other person I call my best friend. It was David who spoke and pulled Michelle and I out of our solitary back and forth. "Can't believe it Sparkie," he said with a smile "Craig's stealing your bird".

To be continued.

THIS WEEK
I Watched: - Undeclared: The Complete Series, Knocked Up, A Beautiful Mind, Lions for Lambs.
I Read: - Indigo Slam by Robert Crais.
I listened to: - The Age of Understatement by The Last of the Shadow Puppets.

Worse Than the Disease

On Thursday morning I woke just past 4am in a great deal of pain as my ongoing stomach problems took a turn for the worse. There could be a number of reasons for this recent deterioration of my health but I won’t bore you with the ins and outs of all that. The most important thing to know is that it was bad; William Shatner's singing career bad, and has only got slightly better thus far.

Having been unable to cross the door on Thursday, for a very real fear of being caught short, I didn’t get to my Doctors Surgery until 17:00 on Friday. By this time I had contacted NHS 24 twice and Michelle had left work early believing I may have to go to hospital. I doubted the hospital would be necessary but I think she was nervous by the texts I’d been sending and to be honest I was more than a little apprehensive myself. I would do anything at this point to get better. Anything.

As it turns out ‘anything’ turned out to be a treatment which would test the boundaries of my statement. I won’t say what it is, but let me just say that it is a very… uncomfortable treatment, and I’ll leave it at that. It’s been five days since I started my embarrassing and unpleasant treatment and still as I sit a type I still have a persistent pain in my gut and still have a great need to be no more than a few feet away from a lavatory. Regardless of my invasive would-be-cure’s effectiveness thus far I will continue on my course. However, it has to be said that, for all the good they’ve done me, I may as well have shoved them up my arse…

THIS WEEK
I Watched: - Independence Day, Contact, Rescue Dawn.
I Read: - The Risk Pool by Richard Russo
I listened to: - Konk by The Kooks, Hot Fuss by The Killers, Favorite Worst Nightmare by The Arctic Monkeys

They’re Dead Dave

Every so often in my job (Taxes Contact Centre Advisor) you get a call that I refer to as a “They’re Dead Dave” call. When these people call, after some experience, you can tell right away that it’s a Dave call. These are the people who believe they are either due tax back or that they are being charged too much, but unfortunately, they are not.

Checking if tax is correct is probably the easiest thing to do in my job, and I think that may be part of the problem. It’s so easy to answer the question that people don’t quite believe you I think. So the call ends up in this situation where you’re saying, in the one call remember, stuff like this: -
“You’re paying the correct amount of tax.”
“No, your tax is the right amount.”
“You’re not due any money back.”
“No, no; you pay the correct amount of tax based on they money you earn.”
“You have nothing to be refunded.” And so on. And on, and on, and on…

Trying to find so many ways to say the same thing always reminds me of a scene from the first episode of Red Dwarf which you can see here: -
Red Dwarf - Everybody's Dead Dave

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THIS WEEK
I Watched: - Curb Your Enthusiasm Series 2, The Darjeeling Limited, Aliens Vs Predator: Requiem.
I Read: - Private Wars by Greg Rucka.
I listened to: - Bob Dylan… a lot.

2007 Questionnaire

1) Was 2007 a good year for you?
I’d have to say no. Money stresses following the wedding begat health worries which in turn begat work concerns (although my manager has been very helpful, supportive and understanding having gone though similar problems.) Michelle and I had a disappointing first year of marriage concluding with an awful first anniversary. However hard it has been we can both agree that we are still glad to have taken that trip down the aisle – We’ve had each other if little else.

2) What was your favourite moment of the year?
Holding my niece, Lucy, for the first time was a highlight. Krakow for Nigel's stag was amazing.

3) What was your least favourite moment of the year?
Jimmy died.

4) Where were you when 2007 began?
Michelle and I were in the flat as I was unwell with the flu.

5) Who were you with?
I was with Michelle, Fudge and Frankie – My wee family.

6) Where were you be when 2007 ended?
I was at Jim and Maxine’s for the bells with Michelle, Sparkie, Michelle, Nigel, Iona, Shaw and Lindsey. After midnight we were picked up by Laura and Stoo for a night at the Kelly.

7) Who were you with when 2007 ended?
I just said.

8) Did you keep your new years resolution of 2007?
As I do every year; lets recap: -

Do the Dishes Every Day
RESULT: Fail – Not even close. They still pile up until I have no option but to eventually do them.

Lift Weights on a Semi Regular Basis
RESULT: Fail – I did join a gym but even I am not cheeky enough to suggest every three months is “semi regular”.

Join a Creative Writing Workshop
RESULT: Fail – I did try to do this in September but missed enrolment by a week. I’m calling tomorrow to enrol for 11^th January.

Make a Baby
RESULT: Fail – this was a joke in which I said I’d make a baby out of paper mache and try to convince Michelle she gave birth to it. After much thought I decided this would be cruel. There is still no desire for the pitter-patter at this stage for me.

9) Do you have a new year’s resolution for 2007?
I do and will, in a short time, inform you of them for your amusment.

10) Did you make any new friends in 2006?
Work acquaintances really – I have enough friends I think.

11) Who are your favourite new friends?
Kenny and Wee Alasdair and big Colin are who I chat with most often in work.

12) What was your favourite month of 2007?
February – Lucy was born.

13) Did you travel outside of the UK in 2007?
I barley travelled out of East Kilbride.

14) Did you lose anybody close to you in 2007?
Jimmy died, he being my grandfather.

15) What do you wish you'd done more of?
Living and smiling.

16) What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worrying.

17) What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
5^th January – Eli was born.
14^th February – Lucy was born.
12^th December – Jimmy died.

18) What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 26 and I went to Kirsty and Gary’s for dinner and drinks.

19) What song will always remind you of 2007?
Anything by Mika; shit songs for a shit year.

20) What was your favourite TV program?
My favourites of the year would have to be Lost’s third season, Brotherhood’s second season, the hilarious It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia and a new show called Pushing Daisies.

21) Favourite film of this year?
The Bourne Ultimatum was amazing, as was the blood soaked 300. Hot Fuzz was very funny but did not split my sides as much as Superbad. John McClane proved that old heroes still kick ass in Live Free or Die Hard. Lastly (I’m not really sure these count because their not yet out in the UK) but The Coen Brother’s No Country for Old Men is an excellent return to form and Charlie Wilson’s War is a fantastically scripted true story of one man raising the funds for Americas first covert war. There are others, but these are the ones which stand out for me at the moment.

(links to be added later)