Thursday, 10 December 2020

THE BEST CHRISTMAS MOVIES EVER – CHRISTMAS REUNION (1994)

 A Christmas Reunion is a Christmas treasure of a film and is the tale of two parallel lives one of a grandfather and the other his grandson and what their generations had to go through which in the end may not be that different.

The middle generation has passed away and there's no connection, between paternal grandfather and grandson.
Both stories contain marriages which were contrary to the wishes of the families involved.

In the first the parents died in a car accident and in the other the father died in the war, and the mother when the child was born.
Edward Woodward stars as the Grandfather and James Coburn as Santa and an ensemble cast makes up the rest and the result is extraordinary.

TIME FOR CHRISTMAS

 

At last I have some time to spare

No more work until the New Year

Its nearly Christmas so beware

The weather's bitter so have a care

Peace and goodwill and never fear

A wish for one and all for the coming year

NORTH POLE SECURITY

 

At the North Pole at Christmas

Security is exceptionally high

And when they searched the bakery

They discovered a mince spy!

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (011) Mistletoe and Miracles

 

It was Christmas Day at my parents’ house, and it was heaving with all my happy semi-intoxicated relatives, Mum and Dad, my kid brother, two older sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins, and I was glad they were happy even if I wasn’t.

I just wished they would take their happiness elsewhere as I had no need of it, even if I was the reason the entire clan had assembled that day.

It was my mother’s idea to invite everyone to make Christmas noisy and happy and jolly and to keep me distracted, and my mother was something of a force of nature so when she “invited” it was generally accepted to be an order, she meant well of course.

Christmas Dinner was tolerable enough; the jollity was blissfully muted when they had their mouths full of my mum’s excellent cooking, but then as soon as the last spoonful of Christmas Pud had been consumed it all ramped up again.

Mum organized the girls in the kitchen and Dad got everyone else clearing away in preparation for an afternoon of fun, I retreated to the hall and got my coat on because the last thing I needed was fun.

“Where are you going Nick?” mum asked

“I just need to walk my dinner off” I replied patting my stomach, and she nodded her understanding but knew it was nothing to do with needing a constitutional.

“Do you want some company?” she asked

“No mum I’ll be fine, I won’t be long”

“You’ll need your hat and scarf” she insisted and draped a scarf around my neck and pulled my woolen hat on my head, and then she put a hand on each cheek and kissed me like she did when I was a boy, and I smiled a weak smile.

“You’ll need gloves as well” she said “its bitter cold out there”

Her voice cracked and she walked quickly back into the kitchen.

I wished for her sake I could have hidden my sadness, it had almost been as difficult a year for her as it had for me.
“I'll be fine mum,” I said to myself “I just need time”
I braced myself as I opened the front door and then walked outside and saw it was still snowing.

I reached the end of the path and turned back to look at the Waterfield home where I had spent such a happy childhood.

It was mid-afternoon and it was already getting dark, so I decided to stick to the main road until my eyes became accustomed.

It was years since I had seen a white Christmas, it was a shame I wasn’t in a better frame of mind to enjoy it.

Even in the semi darkness there was clear evidence the village children had been out in force, there was no sign of them as the light began to fail they were probably lured back indoors with mugs of hot chocolate by their concerned families.
As I made my way up the hill towards St Jane’s church the snow started to fall harder and I looked at the houses as I passed them with coloured lights resplendent and wondered at what sadness lurked in their homes and then I chastised myself for my self-pity.

It was just that I had had such high hopes for that Christmas, it had held so much promise.

 

I’d started a new job the previous February, I am an engineer by profession and as every other new hire I got the first day office tour, on this occasion conducted by my new boss Gary Ash.

After shaking hands with an indeterminate number of employees I began to understand what the Queen had to contend with.

“This is the procurement department” Gary said, and half a dozen heads turned around to greet us and one smartly dressed young woman stepped out of a corner office.

“Ah Gina” Gary called “This is Nick Waterfield the new head of Engineering”

Gina reached out her hand and I took it

“Gina Davies” she said and that was that she had me hook line and sinker, we had our first date that Friday and we were married just after Easter.

It was a whirlwind romance, and we had our whole lives ahead of us and we made plans upon plans.

Of course, what we never planned for was a drunk driver to cross the central reservation and hit her head on as she drove home the day before Halloween.

I should have been with her; we always drove home together but at the last minute I had to go to Aberdeen, so she died alone.

I wished I’d been in the car with her, I wished I’d died with her then I wouldn’t have to feel so shit.

   

The snow was falling fast, and the wind was blowing it straight at me so discretion being the better part of valour, I decided to take refuge in the Church of Saint Jane Frances de Chantal.

I hadn’t set foot in a church since the funeral, God and I had not been on speaking terms since he took Gina, but I didn’t plan to go in I just intended taking shelter in the porch until the snow eased off a bit, but to my surprise the door suddenly opened.

“What on earth are you doing out here?” said a voice behind me

I turned around to see it was Charli Newcombe, I had known Charli a long time, we had gone to school together and we had even dated briefly on two separate occasions, once when we were still at school and again when I returned from University, but it never seemed to happen for us.

“Hey Charli” I said, “I was just out for a walk”
“In this?” she said

“I know it’s not clever” I confessed

“So, what are you really doing out here?” she pressed
“Trivial Pursuits” I replied

“What?”

“The family are all playing Trivial Pursuits, I didn’t really fancy it”

“I see”

“Anyway, it’s Christmas Day” I retorted “Shouldn't you be at home watching The Sound of Music?”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you, but no, my folks are both asleep in front of the TV and I had sole control of the remote, and I suddenly got the notion I should come and get the church ready for tomorrows service” she explained and even she seemed surprised by her answer.

Apart from running the general store and post office Charli was also the church warden and her late husband Tony had been the Vicar.

Charli was the same age as me, give or take a month or two, I was thirty and she was a month short of that milestone, and like me she was born and bred in the village.

She had married Tony shortly after he got the job as Vicar, he was quite a few years older than her, but she loved him to distraction, and you can’t argue with love.

Charli was devastated when he had a heart attack in the church and died, that was shortly after he had performed the wedding ceremony for Gina and I.  

I had seen a lot of her since I came back to stay with my parents in the village, I suppose I sought her out because of our history together and I knew she would understand how it felt to lose someone, and maybe help me come to terms with the grief.

We had talked it through endlessly and had burnt the midnight oil many times, and during the process, some of the old feelings I had for her had come to the surface, for which I felt immensely guilty and disloyal to Gina’s memory.

“You look like you could do with a hot drink,” she said opening the door
“No I won’t come in thanks” I said
“It’s Christmas, you could call a truce for the sake of the day at least”
“Ok” I relented and hesitantly followed her into the church and the most overwhelming feeling washed over me.

It was one of great happiness as I remembered that wonderful day when Gina and I were married.

I would have expected to feel intense sorrow at the memory, but it was pure joy I felt and immense pride.
I took off my hat, scarf and gloves and I know it will sound silly but the moment I crossed the threshold into the sanctuary of the church I felt a great weight lift from me.

Charli had gone into a side room and switched on the light, but I found I was walking down the aisle towards the altar where I paused briefly before an effigy of the saint and then sat down on the front pew.

 

When I got up from the front pew, I found all the anger and resentment that had been consuming me had washed away and I felt more positive than I had in weeks and I even felt I could actually look forward.

I stood up and smiled at St Jane and went in search of the drink Charli had offered, and I found her in the little kitchen sat at a small table and she looked up at me and smiled and as I walked in, I returned her smile.

“Is this mine?” I asked pointing at a mug by the kettle
“Yes” she replied “but I’ll make you a fresh one”

“No this will be fine” I said and took a sip “urgh”

“I told you” Charli said laughing

“How long was I sitting out there?” I asked her

She checked her watch

“About forty minutes”

“I’m sorry” I said “it only seemed like two or three”

“So how do you feel?” she enquired

“Surprisingly good” I replied and sat down “St Jane was very helpful”

“Yes, she is isn’t she” Charli said as she re-boiled the kettle

“I’m still angry that I didn’t get to say goodbye to Gina though” I admitted

“I know that feeling” Charli retorted

“We had such a short time together, we should have had decades, and instead we only had months”

And then I surprised myself when I smiled at her and added

“But those months were so special and so filled with joy that the time we had together was priceless”

“Amen to that” Charli said

“Which is precisely what you’ve been telling me all these weeks” I confessed

“Uh huh” she responded, and we sat and drank our coffee in a comfortable silence.

Charli’s flicked her eyes upwards and caused me to do the same and I saw the mistletoe hanging above the table then she leant across the table and kissed me.

After the kiss it was me who broke the silence

“So, do you have someone special in your life?”

“Do you mean a boyfriend?” she replied
“Yes” I said

“I was kind of hoping you might want the job” Charli said

“Funnily enough I think I would” I said and reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

“If you’ll have me”

She leant across the table and kissed me again this time it was a long lingering sensual kiss.

“Are we allowed to do that in church?” I asked
“Only on Christmas Day” she replied and kissed me again.

 

She locked up the Church and we stepped out from the shelter of the porch and the snow had abated but it was still falling, and I smiled as it accumulated on top of her hat.

I offered her my hand which she accepted gladly and then I walked her home hand in hand through the snow.

 

Her parents’ house was only two doors down from mine so walking her home wasn’t out of the way not that it would have made any difference if she had lived on the other side of the village.

We stopped by the front gate and stood facing each other and I leant in and kissed her, her response was immediate and yielding.

It was a long purposeful kiss full of tenderness and hope for the future.

When I reluctantly broke away, I said

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yes” Charli replied and went up the path, pausing at the door to turn and wave before she went inside.

 

“Are you alright dear?” Mum asked with concern as I walked through the front door

“Yes” I said and smiled “I rather think I am”

And the effect on her was instant as the worry and anxiety melted away and she looked five years younger in an instant.

“I’m so glad” she said and rushed forward to hug me.

 

I have to admit I have given a good deal of reflective thought about exactly what happened that snowy Christmas Day afternoon.

Was it coincidence that I chose to walk in the direction of St Jane’s Church, or that I needed to take shelter precisely as I passed its sanctuary, or that Charli would open the door to leave just as I stood sheltering beneath the porch?

And what possessed her to leave the warmth and comfort of her parent’s cozy fireside on Christmas Day to tidy a cold and draughty Church.

I know what I believe and as to what transpired between me and the Saint as I sat on that Church pew is between me, St Jane, and God.

Wednesday, 9 December 2020

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (010) A Christmas Affair

 

My cab arrived back at the Carlton Hotel just as the snow began to fall again, I paid the driver and Danny and I walked into the lobby of the airport Hotel.

It had been a nice evening out, a lovely meal and good company, there were forty of us at the restaurant, colleagues from all over Europe, some of them close friends and some of them more so.

“Night cap?” I asked

“No thanks’ mate I’m on the red eye in the morning” Danny replied.

I looked at my watch and saw it was already morning.

“I’ll say goodnight then” I said and we shook hands and Danny headed for the desk.

I was definitely up for one more drink, so I headed for the bar, there were only a handful of people in there at that hour and as I caught the night porter’s eye.

“Jameson’s” I said “a large one”

“Make that two” She said from behind me

I recognised the voice and said to the barman “Two”

I turned around and looked at the woman who had been the object of my lust for nine months and an unrequited love for three of those.

Gail Nichols was my older woman, my cougar if you like, she was four years the wrong side of fifty but still beautiful in my eyes even though I was nineteen years younger.

Gail and I had shared an office for over a year, and at first I loathed her, I thought she was vain, overbearing and manipulative, and her opinion of me was much the same.

However, as the weeks changed into months my feelings for her changed with them.

Gail had an English father and a Burmese mother, which left her with brown skin and western features, an exotic looking beauty with jet black hair and large brown eyes.

She was tall, slender and very well endowed, and with legs to die for.

I would surreptitiously watch her move around the office on her shapely legs admiring the tightness of her skirt around her hips and buttocks as she bent, and when she was sat at her desk my eyes would stray to her gaping blouse and the treasures contained within.

However it wasn’t until a grey overcast day in June, on an office beano to Epsom Derby that we showed each other in no uncertain terms how we felt.

It happened as the Derby favourites thundered towards the finish line when Gail and I, away from prying eyes, kissed for the first time, and as we kissed I unzipped her leather jacket and slipped by hands inside her shirt to caress her naked skin.

Over the weeks that followed, so did more sensually intimate moments, but they were only tasters of what the two of us really desired.

 

We had tried on several occasions to engineer an opportunity to take our burgeoning relationship to the next level.

One such chance was a three day trip to visit suppliers, which we got rubber stamped by management and booked appointments and Hotels and we were feeling very pleased with ourselves for our lustful scheming, however an unseen hand dealt us a blow when Gail went down with laryngitis.

Afterwards we tried to just arrange a simple dirty weekend away, Brighton, Bognor, Blackpool and other places that didn’t even begin with the letter B.

We even devised an intricate scenario for the benefit of Gail’s husband, which he swallowed hook line and sinker but then that failed at the eleventh hour when I broke my wrist.

 

 

We decided we should have one last role of the dice, which was at the Christmas Party weekend in Dublin, where we planned to finally consummate our lust.

We had been out to a restaurant in Swords called The Old School House and had spent the evening sitting at the same table for the dinner, discreetly holding hands under the table, but as we left at the end of the evening we got separated and ended up in different cabs so I thought fate had interceded once again and our chance had gone.

I blamed fate because although I was single at the time, Gail was a married woman, which meant there was some guilt involved, even if her husband Peter was a complete waste of space.

However despite any perceived guilt I was delighted to find Gail was waiting for me in the bar when I got back to the Hotel, I hadn’t taken into account that she would want it as bad as I did.

 

We sat in the corner of the bar and finished our drink.

“Another?” I asked

“I don’t think so” Gail said and stood up, took my hand and dragged me to my feet.

We walked arm in arm to the desk and collected our keys and with keys in hand Gail hurried me along the corridor until we reached her room where we stood in the corridor and kissed.

At first it was the usual semi controlled kissing we had done so many times before but it quickly became hot and passionate as my hand sought out her breast.

She broke away and opened the door.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked

“God yes” she replied and pulled me into the room.

Once inside the room I was eager to get started again and immediately tried to get inside her clothes.

Gail however put a stop to things and said

“Not so fast, I want everything to be just so”

“Sorry” I responded not quite sure what “just so” was, but I needn’t have worried it seemed that she wanted to, amongst other things get the lighting right.

She was conscious of the age difference and didn’t want me to be disappointed with what she had to offer, because as a much younger man I would have been more used to firmer flesh.

She needn’t have worried.

While she set the scene I was sent into the bathroom and as I was in there I thought it prudent to relieve myself while I had the opportunity.

However such a natural function, normally simply rendered is greatly complicated when you are seriously aroused, and it necessitates adopting the posture of a ski jumper and even then it’s not always successful.

When I left the bathroom I found the room lighting very subdued and Gail wearing only a smile and a pair of White lace knickers showing in stark contrast to the gorgeous brown flesh.

“Are you disappointed?” She asked

“You’re even more gorgeous than I had hoped” I replied

“Good answer” she said,

From the first moment I emerged from the bathroom she had one arm draped across her breasts but as she walked towards me she slowly lowered her arm and at the last second I got my first long lingering look at her large round breast that I had only previously dreamed of, topped with glorious chocolate coloured nipples, and then she was in my arms and began undressing me.

 

As we lay entwined in the afterglow, still breathing hard from our exertions, Gail rested her head on my chest and sighed as I reflected that making love with her was everything I had hoped it would be and more and then we drifted into a sweet post coital sleep.

After a short sleep I was awoken by Gail tenderly kissing my neck as her hand strove to awaken the rest of me, and when all of me was fully awake we made love again.

The next day when the rest of our colleagues returned to their home countries Gail and I put into effect our plan to stay on for another night and repeated the joyful pleasure of each other again and again.

I would have gladly continued our unions well into the New Year but alas after the protracted Christmas break Gail took me to one side and to my great surprise ended the affair.

“But I love you” I said

“And I love you” Gail concurred

“Then why?” I asked

“It has to end, not because I don’t love you” she said “But because despite everything I love my husband”

 

     

  

         

         

 

 

Uncanny Christmas Tales – (007) The Christmas Surprise

 

It was Christmas 1975 and we had just returned to work after having had our Christmas lunch at the pub, although in truth calling it Christmas Lunch was perhaps a bit of a stretch and makes it sound much grander that it actually was.

In the 1970s pub grub wasn’t very unsophisticated fare and invariably consisted of Chicken in a Basket or a Ploughman’s.

The more up market establishments might well offer Scampi in a Basket and a selection of Ploughman’s including a variety of cheeses as alternatives to the normal cheddar.

The Pig and Whistle however was not an up-market establishment in any way shape or form and offered Chicken in a Basket or cheddar cheese Ploughman’s, however in addition to that, as it was Christmas you got a Mince Pie as well.

So, after our “Christmas Lunch” we all arrived back at work with some of our number much the worse for drink.

I myself had perhaps overindulged to a small degree with an unspecified number of Light and Bitters, so as a consequence I was wearing beer goggles and even scabby Carole was looking passable.

So was Wonky Wendy, so called because she had a wonky eye, she had one eye that looked at you while the other one was looking for you. 

Ok I admit “Wonky” wasn't a very imaginative nickname but there you have it, it was the 70s and we were simple folk, well anyway through beer goggles even she looked quite appetising.

Another of the girls I wouldn’t normally have looked at twice was Pat Warner.

Although she had nice eyes and a pretty smile, other than that she was a plain looking girl about a year younger than me, and over the previous year Pat had made no secret of the fact that she fancied me.

I on the other hand did not fancy her and not because she was plain or because she was stick thin and featureless or even because she was ginger the truth was, she just didn’t do it for me.

However, that was without the benefit of alcohol fuelled lust.

 

On returning to the factory, we continued the party in the canteen, my tipple of choice from what was available was Light Ale while for Pat it was Port and Lemon and that day, we both necked a few, and with every bottle of beer I drank Pat was getting prettier and prettier.

It reached a point that when she went off to the loo, I followed a few minutes later and intercepted her as she returned and took her in the rubber room, no not that kind of rubber, it was the room where the rubber bands were sorted and counted.

It was a small room about 20’ square with glass on two sides but with the lights off it was dark enough in the shadows for what I had in mind.

As soon as the door closed behind us though she was all over me like a rash and her tongue was in my mouth like an Excocet, and her hand went straight to my fly.

“Blimey you're keen” I thought to myself

I thought I had better join in quick and yanked her blouse from the waist band of her skirt and partly unbuttoned it before going in search of her tits.

It was when I found them, such as they were, I made a startling discovery.

When I got my hand on her breast, I found something I wasn’t expecting, and no, it wasn’t anything to do with Scaramanga.

What I found was something altogether different.

Now I was just a callow youth and I wasn’t hugely experienced in the ways of the world, but I had had sufficient experience of breasts to know that nipples shouldn’t be hairy.

“This needs further investigation” I thought and proceeded to complete the unbuttoning of the blouse.

, and then I steered her gently around, so the meagre light fell across her equally meagre and exposed breast.

I broke away from her mouth and let her tongue my ear instead while I looked down at her tiny breast surmounted with a perfectly formed swollen nipple surrounded by two-inch-long curly ginger hairs.

“That can’t be right” I thought

But a moment later Pat wrestled my old chap from my jeans and began tugging on it, this distracted me from the hairy nipple as with my penis in her hand she got my full attention, so my hand abandoned her hairy tit and headed south.

I got my hand up her skirt easy enough and was attempting to get it into her knickers when she said

“No” and pushed my hand away

I kissed her again and after a few moments I tried once more to invade her pants, I even managed to get my fingertips beneath the elastic of her knicker leg that time before she stopped me again.

“I said no” she reaffirmed

“Why not?” I asked

“Because you have a girlfriend” she replied

Well, I don’t mind telling you I thought it was a bit indelicate of her to mention that I had a girlfriend as she was in a semi darkened room with me and she had my old chap in her hand.

I was about to point out the hypocrisy of her position when the door flew open.

“Aye, aye” Shaft said

Shaft was the foreman, his real name was Ted, but his nickname was Shaft not because he was black but because he was shafting Beryl from picking. 

I did the gentlemanly thing and positioned myself between Ted and Pat so she could redress herself.

It also enabled me to force my stubborn erection back into my jeans which it seemed reluctant to do, he had come out to party and didn’t want to go home early before he had popped his cork.

“I’ve just come for my coat” Ted said with a chuckle as he took his coat off the peg

“Carry on” he said and closed the door.

I would have liked to carry on, but Pat wasn’t going to let me carry on as far as I wanted to, so we went back to the party and that was that.

 

I never had another close encounter with Pat and in the light of the hairy nipples I had no desire to as in the sober light of day I didn’t fancy her.

I should also state that I never ever encountered any other hairy breasted women over the following years.

 

It was many years after the Christmas grope in the Rubber Room that doubts entered my mind that it was anything other than what it appeared, and these doubts first surfaced after I watched a documentary about Ladyboy’s, which I found quite shocking.

You have to remember we were very naïve back in 1970s Stevenage, and we had never heard of Ladyboy’s, we weren’t complete yokels though, we had heard of homosexuals, though no one I knew admitted to ever meeting one.

I always assumed that Pat was short for Patricia but after the documentary I wasn’t so sure, maybe she was really a Patrick.

We tended to take things at face value back then but if I had managed to gain entry into Pat’s knickers I would have known for sure if she was either fish or fowl.

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS # 37

 

Twas the night before Christmas

And all along the Avenue

The Christmas lights are twinkling

For everyone to view