Bugger Father Christmas

dormouseasleep

The old people’s Christmas party went swimmingly. The ukulele player caused  heads to rise, and some  joined in the carols with gusto. One  sang Away in a Manger then wondered why she was there. One, diminutive and 108, or so they said,  remained aloof.  A new comer to the feast  who had been quite somebody in the community in her day, had caused her to slump  in a sulk so she wouldn’t even eat. We tried to persuade her to join in, ‘Father Christmas is on his way.’

‘Bugger Father Christmas!’ And with that she curled up like a dormouse and slept.

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