Christmas Mrs.

 

Josiah Oakshott, dapperly dressed in grey overcoat with matching gloves and scarf, was endeavouring to manoeuvre his way through the Christmas shopping crowds in Merkin-under-Heathwood High Street.  He was in pursuit of a present for Samantha, now his new wife (a tingle of excitement shot up and down his spine whenever he contemplated this fact) and was currently failing, dismally. 

He was racking his brain for inspiration, any inspiration, when he spotted what he felt sure was a familiar figure in the distance.  Actually, it was the figure that was familiar, because nothing else about the apparition made any sense.  It was clearly a tall, well-built but gangly person who, for some unaccountable reason, was dressed in bright green and red, with a pointed hat and pointed green boots, all of which appeared to have bells on the end.  The figure turned, appeared to see him, and immediately tried to disappear behind a pile of, what looked like, old crisp packet boxes painted a garish green.  Josiah quickened his step and drew closer.

“Archibald?”  He asked the pile of boxes, hesitantly.

There was a deep sigh from the strangely-costumed figure, who turned, reluctantly, from his hiding place and nodded, sheepishly, to Josiah.

“’Lo, Mr. O.” Archibald muttered in the direction of his bell-festooned boots.

“It IS you!  Goodness, I doubted my own eyes, for a moment” Josiah looked at his employee with amazement, “My understanding was that you had taken a day’s leave in order to do some Christmas shopping?”

“Er, yeah” Archibald nodded, miserably, “sorry about that”

“You appear to be engaged in another activity entirely?  I feel duty bound to ask about your, somewhat bizarre, costume”

“Oh, this?” Archibald looked down at his apparel, as if seeing it for the first time, “well, yer see, I’m an elf”

“An elf?  Are you not somewhat…” Josiah struggled to find an adequate descriptor and eventually settled on, “large for an elf?”

“Yeah, prob’ly” Archibald conceded, “only there weren’t no-one else what’d do it, yer see”

“I cannot say that I am entirely surprised” Josiah raised an eyebrow, “why, may I ask, are you engaged in the trade or calling of being an ‘elf’?”

“Ah, well, it’s me Nan, see?”

“Your grandmother?”

“Yeah, ‘er!” Archibald nodded, “She wanted a grotty”

“A grotty?  Did you perhaps have in mind, a grotto?”

“Yeah, one of them”

“Where is it?” Josiah enquired.

“This is it!” Archibald, with a sweeping gesture, indicated the pile of garishly painted cardboard boxes.

“Ah!” Josiah nodded, “In which case, I understand your conflict of terms.  A grotty grotto indeed!  What, pray tell, is the purpose of this…edifice?”

“Werl, it’s for the kiddies, innit?”

“Is it?” Josiah tried to hide his surprise, “What function does it provide for them?”

Archibald looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then said:

“Yer what?”

“What do the ‘kiddies’ do with it?”

“Werl, they go inside, like, an’ meet Santa, style of thing”

“Meet Santa?”

“Yeah, that’s where I come in” Archibald pointed to his chest, proudly, “I take ‘em in an’ bring ‘em out again, when they’ve ‘ad their time”

“And who is playing the role of Father Christmas?”

“Me Nan”

“Your grandmother is filling the role of, what typically would be expected to be, an older gentleman?”  Josiah frowned.

“Yeah!” Archibald nodded, “She reckons she ‘refuses to be constrained by outmoded thinking about stereotypical gender roles’” He recited.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, she’s been readin’ some of me Mam’s women’s magazines” Archibald looked thoughtful, “Any road up, she says there’s no reason why she can’t be Mother Christmas”

“And are the clients of a similar persuasion?”

“Eh?”

“Do the children and parents accept this, somewhat radical, change of role?”  Josiah explained, patiently.

“Oh, right, got yer!” Archibald grinned, “Werl, not all told, to be ‘onest.  We’ve ‘ad a few complaints” He confided.

“Yes, I can see that it might come as a surprise” Josiah nodded.

“It wasn’t that, so much” Archibald flapped his arms and set a number of bells tinkling, “It were more the gifts”

“Gifts?”

“Yeah, yer know ‘ow it works?  Parent bungs us a tenner, Kiddy goes in, “‘Ave yer been a good little…whatever?”, yadda, yadda, yadda, bung ‘em a gift an’ out they come”

“Yes, I am vaguely aware of the process” Josiah agreed, “Did you say you were charging these unfortunates ten pounds per visit?”

“Yeah, that’s right” Archibald nodded.

“In  that case, I would imagine they would expect a quality gift.  Of what did the present consist?”

“Of what…?  Oh, right, werl, first off, it were a bottle of stout?”

“A bottle of…?” Josiah looked aghast, “You were giving children alcohol?”

“Yeah, she’d got some out-of-date stock cheap off’ve the pub” Archibald nodded, gloomily, “but we ‘ad to stop when the cop…police turned up”

“I am not at all surprised!” Josiah shook his head, “How could you possibly think that such a thing was acceptable?”

“Dunner blame me!” Archibald protested, “It weren’t my idea.  I was only following orders”

“That defence failed to convince at Nuremberg”

“Yer what?”  Archibald frowned.

“Nothing” Josiah waved it away, “So, having ceased plying alcohol to the under-aged, what did you offer as a replacement?”

“Me Nan got hold of some of them ‘Magic Painting’ books…”

“’Magic Painting’?”

“Yeah, yer know, yer slosh some water on it an’ the colours come out”

“Ah, yes, I do recall something of that nature existing when I was but a child” Josiah nodded and smiled at the memory.

“Only, I reckon there’s summat up with ‘em, ‘cause I tried one out an’ it came out all pink!  Werl, pink with bits of other colours sometimes.  There’s a bit of yellow on one of ‘em”

“Do you have a copy of one of the publications?”

Archibald disappeared into the pile of cardboard boxes and returned clutching a flimsy paper booklet.

“’Ere yer are” He thrust the booklet at Josiah, who leafed through it, with an increasing frown, and then studied the publication information on the back cover.  Archibald leaned over and flicked it open again at a particular page.

“There’s that bit of yellow, see?  I reckon it could be the sun, don’cher think?”

“Well, yes, it could be…” Josiah conceded, “or, possibly, a bedside lamp, do you see?”

Josiah held the booklet out and at an angle.  Archibald screwed his eyes up and studied the page.

“Oh yeah!”  He agreed, “It could be, couldn’t it?”

“This publication would appear to be Scandinavian in origin” Josiah said.

“Oh, right” Archibald looked thoughtful, “is that any good then?”

“The quality of the product is not really the issue here” Josiah said, furrowing his brow, “I think the point here is more the somewhat…liberal attitudes that prevail in that geographical zone to what might be considered erm…shall we say, suitable for publication, here”

“Suitable for…?”  Archibald looked flummoxed.

“Yes, this appears to be entitled, as far as I can gather, something akin to ‘Kurt and Karl Find Each Other”, or something to that effect.  I think it says ‘Find’ but the typeface is rather odd.”  Josiah shook his head, “I very much doubt that it would be considered suitable for supply to young children.  The pink, you see, is not a printing fault, it relates to the nature of the erm, illustrations”

“Relates to the…”  Archibald looked puzzled,

“The principal characters do not appear to be wearing any clothes!”

“Oh, right, got it!”  Archibald blushed, and thought for a moment, “Me Nan’s goin’ to do ‘er fruit!”

“Better than doing time!” Josiah pointed out. “As I believe common parlance would have it”

“Oh strewth!  D’yer think…?” Archibald looked startled.

“I do.  I would remove those booklets from public view as a matter of urgency.  Please tell me you have not distributed any of these?”

“Distributed?  Oh, right, no, we hadn’t got ‘round to that, yet” Archibald explained, “Me Nan brought these back from a mate of ‘ers an’ then went off for a…”

“Drink?”

“Werl, yeah” Archibald agreed, glumly.

“That is a fortunate outcome” Josiah said, with relief.  “I take it that this …enterprise, is not a charitable venture?”

“Eh?”

“What happens to the proceeds from these transactions?” Josiah said, patiently.

“Oh yeah, well, it all goes to good causes” Archibald flapped his arms, again, and the bells pealed obediently.

“Really?  What causes would those be?”

“Werl, there’s the Salvation Army for one”

“Ah, a very worthwhile institution” Josiah nodded.

“Yeah, me Nan says they’ve been very good to ‘er in the past”

They both considered this information, for a moment.

“And…?”  Josiah prompted.  Archibald looked confused.  “You seemed to imply there was another beneficiary” Josiah explained.

“Oh, right, yeah” Archibald agreed, reluctantly, “it’s the Plndfyblthingy” He muttered.

“I apologise, Archibald, I failed to understand that.  Would you care to repeat it?”

“Erm, yeah, it’s the Prince of Prussia Outing Fund” Archibald said, in a rush.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Prince of Prussia Outing Fund” Archibald said, scuffing his bell-bedecked boots.  “They do a lot of good work for the elderly!” He said, by way of justification.

“And, by the elderly, do you perhaps mean…?”

“Me Nan, yeah” Archibald agreed.

“Archibald, I think it would, perhaps, be prudent to terminate your involvement with this endeavour with immediate effect.  I suggest that you gather up the erm, publications, divest yourself of your raiment and join me for a Christmas libation”

“Do what?”  Archibald frowned.

 “Grab the booklets, get changed and let’s go for a drink” Josiah interpreted, with a sigh.

“Oh right, nice one!” Archibald grinned.

A little later, Archibald, now in his everyday clothing and with a pile of booklets under his arm, was skipping along beside Josiah along the High Street.  Behind them, the ‘grotty’ had collapsed into a barely recognisable pile.

“Mr. O.?”

“Yes, Archibald”

“This drink we’re goin’ to ‘ave…”

“Yes, Archibald”

“D’yer reckon I could ‘ave some of that Invisible Coke with mine?”

“I feel sure that would be a possibility” Josiah grinned at Archibald’s remembrance of his definition of soda water, “and Archibald…?”

“Yes, Mr. O.?”

Josiah patted him on the shoulder, rather awkwardly,

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. O.”  Archibald beamed.

Merry Christmas to everyone who has been kind enough to read and comment on my stories this year.  Hope you have a brilliant time and a wonderful 2026!