Tag Archives: Christmas

The tinsel untangler of old Looe town

Tinsel in a tangle?

Decorations run amok?


Stay jolly,

leave the holly upon the bush;

imagine your Christmas tree,

without actually having one.

Imagine it perfectly lit,

with tinsel and ornaments

perfectly positioned,

and sturdy enough

to allow all the cats in the neighbourhood

to swing from the branches

without harm to either party.


And no needles to pick up,

no tree to pack away,

no chocolates hanging

low enough for the dogs to eat,

no worry, and no vet’s bill,

no cost involved

at all.


Tinsel tangled?

Decorations in a mess?


There’s a cure for that.

It was Christmas Eve in the bakehouse.

It was Christmas Eve in the bake house,

and there wasn’t a crumb in sight;

for the little creatures had all been festive

through the long, dark silent night.


“Where are the loaves and the rolls,

where the baps and buns;

how shall we feed the bishops,

the friars and the nuns?”


The mice didn’t care two figs,

the owls didn’t give two hoots,

the birds and bees, and two large fleas,

were full unto their boots.


It was Christmas Day in the bakehouse,

and the baker had work to do,

to feed the rich, fat, and religious,

while we had but a crust to chew.

Will my poet arrive in time for Christmas?

I posted him early,

did I post him too late?

He only just fit in the postbox,

there to await his fate;

so many strikes,

and some post delayed,

there may be many poets

awaiting collection, all dismayed

that they might not be there

Christmas morn,

when presents are opened up,

and the poets’ words are born;


‘It was Christmas Day in the morning,

and the presents had all been found,

the snow still fell,

but all was well,

for love was all around.’

And on they went…

… until the batteries ran down –

and everyone was happy.

December will be magic again.

December will be,

as Kate sang,

magic again.



as Kate sang,

will be magic again.


it won’t.

But, the future

has not yet been written,

and may go many ways.

So, 1980s Kate

may have been right,

may yet be right,


well, let us wait and see.

Who knows which way the wind will blow?



Jane and I were discussing our shopping needs for Christmas, and what kind of beans we needed; Jane said ‘Baked beans!’ And I said, ‘Magic beans’ – we compromised, and got ‘Baked beans.”

But, with my input, at least they were ‘Magic’ Baked beans!

Chuck to Liz

Chuck to Liz

Merry Christmas, Mummy dear,

may your pressies all be


and your Queenish speech

be out of reach,

with no unoccasioned blooper.

It’s Only Christmas.

It’s only Christmas.

It’s only Christmas,

happens ev’ry year;

it’s only Christmas,

too much food and too much beer;

It’s only Christmas,

Deck the halls,

and la la la la la

la la la


Sir Mordarthur.

LWG Christmassy Thing for 2019 – Sir Mordarthur.

‘It was the knight before Christmas.’

‘What was, dear?’

‘At the door. A knight in shining armour. He was selling his services door-to-door.‘

‘What sort of services, dear? We could do with some new tea-towels.’

‘Tea-towels? Hardly something that a Knight of the Round Table would interest himself in.’

‘Round Table? We could do with a new table cloth, too. Had he anything in that line?’

‘He was asking if we needed any dragons slain, evil wizards brought to justice, or any quests that were needing to be undertaken.’

‘Hmmmm. We don’t really believe in the slaying of dragons – all animals have a natural right to swoop upon poor unsuspecting townsfolk – if that’s the sort of thing they do.’

‘Exactly. And I don’t think we have any dragons in these parts – a few lizards, the odd tortoise – nothing that requires a knightly seeing-to.’

‘And no cotton goods, whatsoever?’


‘Couldn’t we have sent him on a quest to seek a Holy tea-towel. There must have been a venerable Saint somewhen in the past that used one to wash up the tea things – that would make it a holy relic.’

‘That’s a possibility. I’ll run out after him and see if he’s up for a bit of questing. He’s probably stopped in the village at the George & Dragon Public House (Est. 427AD), for a pint of mead.’

‘Okay. But, please stress that we desperately need at least one tea towel to dry up the Christmas things.’

‘I shall. Perhaps I can lay it on thick about the difficulty we have using bundles of straw to try and clean the plates – most unsatisfactory.’

He left, the door closing behind him.

Well, it was the knight before Christmas, and maybe, just maybe, a tea-towel could be found at short notice by a noble knight of the Round Table.

And, maybe, just maybe Thomas The Malory and Daisy also The Malory would be able to carry out a proper post-Christmas washing-up operation.

Thomas The Malory soon reached the George & Dragon Public House (Est. 427AD), and was relieved to see a huge charger tied up outside of the pub – it was Jimmy the Mediaeval Spiv, who charged over 4000% APR (All Pennies Recovered) on his ‘loaning of monies’ scheme – however, he was currently unable to answer any of Thomas The Malory’s questions on the availability of a payday loan at decent rates as he was a little tied up at the moment.

Leaving Jimmy the Mediaeval Spiv to rue upon the error of his Mediaeval ways, Thomas the Malory entered into the public bar of the George & Dragon (Est. 427AD) and then entered into conversation with the local yokels. They quickly pointed out that the seven-foot tall gentleman in the shiny armour was probably the questing-type Knight that he was looking for.

Thomas The Malory walked across the crowded public bar area, and into the reverential space that existed around the metal-clad potential quester and greeted the knight in the traditional manner,


What ya drinking, Sir knight,

may I, on your best behest,

on payment of a quest,

perchance purchase you

of another brew?”

The Knight, unaccustomed as he was to public bar speaking, nodded gravely, upon which action his visor slipped down with an almighty, ‘clang!’

Having huge decoratively decorated gauntlets upon his hand-areas, the noble knight was unable then to reopen his visor, or drink his drink (and, straws, having recently been outlawed, were not an option). Thomas The Malory saw an opening. Into which he poked a fire rod from the nearby fire. After a good deal of prising, the visor conceded defeat and rose with a ‘creeeeeeeeak!’

“Okay.” said the knight – for he was a worthy knight, for all that he was anachronistic – and slightly drunk, “I shall grant you the quest that you behest, I shall do my best, and shall not rest, until… I have travelled East, and I have travelled West (possibly going in all the other directions, too) until I have brought you that which you request.” and having said such, he gathered his wits about him and left the public bar of the George & Dragon Public House (Est. 427AD) and set off in a generally Southerly direction.

‘It was the Knight before Christmas.’

‘Was that who was at the door?’

‘Yes.’ said Thomas The Malory to his darling Daisy also The Malory. He left us this.’

‘Is it a tea-towel?’ asked the darling Daisy also The Malory.

‘Well…’ said Thomas The Malory, ‘I think that the knight may have misheard my words and requirements when we were stood in the public bar of the George & Dragon Public House (Est. 427AD).’

‘Why? What has the noble knight quested for us?’

“Well, it’s not a tea-towel: it’s a different type of towel, altogether; it’s a teat-owl, and it’s just had babies.’

The washing-up would have to wait for another year.

“I was the nit before Christmas!”

“I was the nit before Christmas!”

as for after…

I was not that nit,

I was another nit entirely.

Older, obviously;

wiser, unlikely;

a paper shade of pink?

Who knows?

I do not have a colour chart with which to compare my fleshy tones;

chart my progress from Grae to Black,

and back.

I don’t know what the next line is…

Perhaps I should end here,

whilst I am a head?

Quite random, methinks.

It’s what I do.


On the Cornish Lanes at Christmas.

On the Cornish Lanes at Christmas

On the Cornish roads

there is very little traffic

when there is usually loads;

on the Cornish lanes it’s business as usual

apart from the noticeable lack

of a tractor –

perhaps Christmas is a factor?