This was the cynical and grumpy voice of my ‘Storyteller of Christmas Past’. And now, a few years later, I can still empathise with this gripe. After all, I’m allergic to tinsel and I loathe raisins, plastic tablecloths, and stocking fillers (especially those infuriating executive desk toys). Then, there are those galling Christmas crackers, banal songs about breadcrumbs, repulsive festive jumpers, contrived joviality and . .
“No more! Please stop. This isn't the real Christmas!”
Oh, I forgot about him. Yes, this is the voice of my ‘Storyteller of Christmas Present’. He’s the jovial chap who showed me the other side of Christmas. Magical visions of traditional and wintry settings, like the enchanting Christmas Market in the historical city of Nuremberg, and the bewitching North Berwick in Scotland.
So, dazzled and enthralled by these alternative revelations, I wrote and published two original short stories (One Christmas in Nuremberg and Christmas on The Law) that focused on the real meaning of Christmas - families, relationships, and that soothing and wonderful sense of belonging.
And what about the voice of my ‘Storyteller of Christmas Future’?
Well, he’s a very strange fellow. I’m now being bombarded by images of mysterious haunted hamlets, village pantomimes, and dumpy squirrels wearing dirndls. Hang on though, perhaps there’s a third Christmas story in all this. I know, one that involves visits from bumbling ghosts and a grumpy old man finding redemption.
Hmm, I wonder if anyone has written something a little bit similar?