Frail grasp on the big picture

Well it’s Christmas day, a time for family, good will to all men, and catching up around the world as family, friends and colleagues call and are called with good wishes.

I spoke to two parts of the world today, this morning it was Australia, Perth, the coldest Christmas day for 8 years, 28C. Ladies an Gennelmen I present ‘The Hawk’ We only speak once or twice a year, but there’s an incredibly strong bond, formed initially at work, reinforced with a cracking climb on Crib Coch on Snowdon, the common bond of parenthood, and a riotous new year celebration at work, with a dawning realization at 02:00hrs that we were totally polluted, and perhaps it was time to stop. We had a job to do, we had to get home, eventually, and we woz besh maytze … It also looked like we had emptied a bottle bank.

Next we come to ‘The Welsh Git’, again a thoroughly decent bloke, but who this year has had an ‘annus horriblus’, that doesn’t mean his bum looks like a Japanese naval ensign, just that he’s had a bit of a rough time.
a/ Split from the future wife
b/ Lost a future daughter in law
c/ On the ‘hit’ list at work
d/ Had a nephew who has had a paralyzing stroke at Age 18
e/ A Grandparent they can’t tell about the stroke as the it may prove too much
f/ Welsh
g/ Ginger

There’s talk he’s been seen hanging around Battersea dogs home looking for a mutt. The only problem is with his luck, it’ll end up brown bread in short order. There is a light on the horizon though, he’s ordered his first Pikuptruk, if the house catches fahr and the dawg dahs, he’s got the entire difficult third album ready written. Nashville here we come!

Bergen or ‘Tackleberry’ as he’s also affectionately known is as good value as ever. Most of us get a nice prezzy wrapped in a box with shiny paper and a loving kiss. Bergy gets himself an airshow, personalized with a helicopter and a big torch. Spending the break at home with his parents on the eve of the big day they were gently reminiscing about Christmas’ past, and, as a surprise to his parents, Bergy decided he’d recreate one of the more memorable Christmas mornings of his childhood. Thus pre-dawn, armed with a broom and cricket bat, to make, it has to be said, a reasonable representation of a Lee Enfield .303, we find a room filled with screams as parents awake to find an ‘armed’ intruder standing on their bed, shouting at them to get their hands up. A neighbour returning from a night shift sees, beautifully backlit, (those MFI bedside lamps are so effective), an armed intruder, with a rifle, threatening Mr & Mrs Bergy Snr, and makes the only sensible call possible under the circumstances. Cue the airshow, a £2,000 fuel bill and a charge for wasting Police time. Happy days …

Finally my bro, living in High Plains Drifter country, at the end of the yellow brick road, Happy Christmas mate, there’s a drawing of a five pound note in the post for you.



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