W/E 10th December 2016
I have had a real Victorian Christmas experience today with Mamma and grandad. You know a Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol” one.
Firstly, it was really foggy and cold, which made it so atmospheric like in Charles Dickens’ story and all the films made about it. Steam was coming from people’s mouths and they were coughing and spluttering all over the place.The temperature was so cold mamma tried to make me wear a hat and gloves. She doesn’t realise they are for girls.
I did relent for a couple of minutes. You have to think these things through. Don’t wipe your nose to spite your face or whatever adults say. I know full well, if ever I cry mum and dad leave me to cry, it has no affect on the hard b’s. Whereas if I cry in mama’s presence, she will do everything in her power to grant my wishes. Unless she feels really strongly about something. So that’s why she needs humouring. I’m not sure why grandad’s not latched on to the crying routine to get his own way with her. I keep trying to teach him.
The problem is it doesn’t work with the hat and gloves.
Anyway I put up with it for two minutes and then I could hear people laughing at me and saying: “What a lovely little girl.” I knew the next step would be a bow in my hair and pigtails. So I snatched the hat and gloves from my head and threw them as hard and as far as I could. They landed on the floor a couple of inches away from mamma’s feet.
Grandad was more Scroogier than Scrooge as he walked with mamma pushing me in the push chair and the fog wrapped eerily around us.
“Bah! Humbug!” He muttered as we went into Wilko’s to begin our Victorian Christmas Experience.
Wilko’s is not actually mentioned in Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” but they would have been around, they’ve been around forever grandad says. In Charles Dicken’s times you couldn’t mention commercial names in books or on TV, it was banned.
Scrooge would have done all his shopping there, it is just so cheap, brilliant place if watching the pennies.
They sell so many boring things. Things only mum’s buy. But there is also loads of sweets, millions and millions of them. I do understand there really are millions. That is beyond lots and lots. And they sell Mr Maker Crafts, colouring books, crayons and best of all felt tips and paints. You know all the things mum’s should buy but don’t.
On the way to the Toy department, Grandad took me through the fantastic Christmas Lights Dept. So many LEDs. I was dumbstruck. The best lighting department in the world, ever.
When we reached toys, the first thing we came across was huge cuddly toys. They were as tall and big as fully grown men. That is not quite as tall as my dad because he is very, very tall, but loads taller than grandad because he is not very tall. They were piled in a huge cardboard dump bin. Grandad pulled one partially out of the bin, a huge larger than life teddy bear. It looked as though it was escaping and heading straight for me. It so freaked me out. I’ve seen the menacing bear in Toy Story. It was him come to give me grief, I could see it in his eyes.
But there was also a lion the size of a man, probably the size of a real lion and a penguin the size of a man, with a tummy fatter than grandad’s. That was far bigger than a real penguin. These two, I fell in love with straight away. I so wanted them or even one would do, the lion. The lion for me. The penguin for brother Rory. I knew with that lion in bed there would be no room foar me. But I would’t mind sleeping on the floor.
They were half price, too, only £30. Grandad is sensible, he wanted to buy me one. Mamma put her stern head on and said definitely not! No matter how much I or grandad cried she wouldn’t budge.
Then disaster struck. Three women bought one of the animals each. At first I thought it was one of these daft things where they were sending them to Santa for me. We followed them through the checkout. Mamma said they were buying them for their boyfriends. Can you believe, that, not me but their boyfriends?
I cried even more and stretched out my arms to them in the hope that grandad would chase after the women, as he normally does, works his wit and charm on them, as he normally does, and pulls off one of his amazing deals, as he normally does. But he didn’t. He left me crying. He’s too scared of mamma that’s his trouble. He needs to harden up and stand up to her. He’ll regret not doing it one day
This Christmas lark is so turning mamma into a tough cookie, as bad as my dad.
In Wilko’s there was this V-tech racing car set, only £12. I wanted that today instead of a comic. Comic’s are alright for brother Rory but not my cup of tea. Fast cars with flashing lights are more me.
Mamma said I couldn’t have that but I could have a V-tech sheep with a flashing blue light on its head. What? Exactly. Grandad found a dustcart with a flashing amber light. I did consider that but then rejected it. I wanted the racing set or nothing. And that’s what I got, nothing.
Outside of Wilko’s grandad bought a Big Issue from the Big Issue Lady who always has a joke with grandad and me as we pass. Mamma said that was the greatest Christmas miracle she had ever seen and warned me it was the biggest one I would ever see in my life.
We went off home for lunch, Scrooge, Mrs Scrooge and me. No coffee and seasonal mince pie or Christmas cake or banana in Costa, not even in a local greasy spoon. Sorry, Scrooge it is an insult to your good name to apply it to my mamma and grandad.
So that was my experience of a Charles Dickens’ Victorian Christmas. But to make it worse we kept getting texts from Cousin Freya at Centre Parks having one amazing 21st Century, umdinger of a Christmas. Bah! Humbug!
When I was a lad at school around 13 years old, our Maths teacher used to call me Wol. At the end of the year as we were moving up a class I plucked up courage to ask why he called me Wol. He told meit was thename of the deslexic owl in Winnie the Pooh. With my Harry Potter glasses he said I looked like the Wise Old Owl in the Winnie the Pooh stories.
Being the vain person I am I took it as a compliment
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