Ron and Chicki
Chicki knew she had to be good. After all, Santa was watching : and all she wanted was a new rope toy.
So, as her daddy Ron received his gift from her mummy Margaret, she was all alert and expectant.
Her face said, ‘Where’s mine?’
Within seconds it appeared, and all was excitement!
The game that ensued amongst us all became a Christmas highlight!
What would Christmas be without special moments like these?
The brass band
Today, Santa arrived!
I saw him in my neighbourhood, listening to children of many ages: even having a word or two with the grown-ups that tagged along.
Is Santa the greatest traditionalist in the world? After all, year after year he dons a bright red suit: surely more at home is colder climates. But in his wisdom, he knows: that’s his signature. Hot or cold, fine or snowing (or in between): that’s how we know and love him.
But in this day and age, the local kids are treated to more. For this Santa was accompanied by a red ‘fire engine’: all decked out with tinsel, and packed with happy youngsters. Round and round they went, waving; yelling ‘Happy Christmas’!
A local Brass Band, decked out in uniform, completed the spectacle. As I heard their yuletide tunes, it capped the mood.
Christmas is coming!
Mother nature has sent us a reminder that it’s Christmas-time here in Australia.
The Christmas bush has coloured up, its rustic orange-red flower-shaped bundles are out. Not just in the native bushland. No. Many old homes have lovely specimens growing in their gardens.
We are very lucky, Ron and I, since we have a showy, Christmas display in our front garden. Every year, a very old, stunted tree planted long before my time, rises to the occasion and rewards our neighbourhood with its symbol of Yuletide.
And more! Our side passage is graced by several, equally old but much larger trees. Doubtless, many passer-byes catch more than a glimpse of its cheerful colour.
I remember waking up crying, when I was about six years old. I wanted a scooter!
Scooters were wonderful! I’d watched with envy as my friends whizzed past, having the time of their lives. My three wheeler bike lacked the excitement, the thrill of the scooter.
Could I have one for Christmas? To pacify me, my parents said ‘yes’, but when the time came, no scooter appeared. Had Santa run out of them?
Who knows what would have become of me if that marvel of speed, the scooter, had become part of my life?