'Twas The Month Before Christmas

Christmas time is fast approaching and many of us are dusting off our Christmas Trees and decorations and rushing around the shops buying gifts for our loved ones. On Saturday, as I pulled up outside my parents house, a smile swept across my face as my eyes set upon the prettiest frosty blue fairy lights which lit up their window and all those wonderful childhood memories of good tidings flooded my heart.

You may feel it is a little early to be celebrating, but my Dad IS Father Christmas!

From September onwards, my Father suffers terrible insomnia through the excitement of trimming up the house and spoiling his family. He is usually the first in our town to decorate with outstanding displays. Yes...He is the original CHEVVY CHASE! :)

One year, he spent a whole month making a paper mache traditional fireplace, painted and frosted, just like the ones you see in the books, and beside it, in a rocking chair, sat a full-sized Santa Claus. It truely was the most amazing Christmas scene you would ever see. Better that any Santa's Grotto that I visit with my son.

For the three months leading up to Christmas, he watches three Christmas films a night, and my favourite highlight of the year, he sits all the Grandkids down, just like he did to me and my sister when we were children, and reads them the poem 'T'was The Night Before Christmas'.

My parent's house, this year, is as beautiful as ever. Every surface glistens with the season, with tinsel and boubles and snow globes and lamenta. The kitchen is under constant use with pickling vegetables and roasting chestnuts and cake baking. Even the pet cat is strutting around the house wearing a Santa hat.

Their Christmas tree is a stunning 7 foot-er lit up in blue lights - The most beautiful tree in the world!

My Dad's excitement for Christmas is highly contageous. I cannot wait to get the ladder out :)

'Twas the Night Before Christmas



by Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"