Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

The sound of sleigh bells fills the air, Santa's arriving without a care. He certainly seems extremely merry - by the looks of it, he's been hitting the sherry. The reindeers are struggling to keep the sleigh steady. How on earth did the elves get everything ready? They shouldn't have partied, but what a good night, although poor Santa looks quite a sight. Presents perched at a precarious angle. Tinsel and ribbons in such a tangle. "Get a move on," shouts Santa, as he breaks into song. "If we go a bit faster, it shouldn't take long." The presents survive the hazardous trip, but Santa is feeling a little bit sick. Mince pies and chocolates have soaked up the booze, now he wants to go home with no time to lose. Rudolph and friends take a well-earned break, to munch on carrots and Christmas cake. Relieved it's all over until next December, but it's certainly been a night to remember.

The first blue stain of light has not yet spilled itself across the blackness of the night, and I am elsewhere, sailing through the half‑world, drifting on a tide of sleep down rivulets of dreams. Achingly… imperceptibly, the world turns by degrees to face the scant warmth of dawn, lapping still lazily at the shore of the day— the shortest of days— on which the year turns, and all life must die to be reborn. The small and quarrelsome creature that I have become through the dark days of winter stretches back into the shape of lengthening days, brought to life by soft kisses of light, until all darkness is burned away and I am alive again.

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, Nothing was stirring not even Santa Claus. He’d drunk all the brandy and eaten the crisps, Then fallen downstairs, entirely pissed. The reindeer were restless as time hurtled by More parcels to carry on their sleigh in the sky. ‘What shall we do?’ said Donner and Blitzen. ‘He’s out for the count,’ replied Dasher and Vixen. 'It’s all down to us, chaps,' said Rudolph the Wise, 'We must not leave children with tears in their eyes.' So they loaded the presents with help from the elves, Mission accomplished: hurray! They were proud of themselves. They flew down the chimneys and circled the earth, Returning to the Pole on the day of His birth. Santa was shamed, the deer gave him hell, He held his sore head and felt rather unwell. Disaster averted, the secret was kept, Children’s presents delivered while they safely slept. But what of the drunkard who’d caused all that shame? He went into rehab but was never the same.