Easy As Falling Off A Recycle.
by Angroanad
part: the latest one.

I went to bed while Simon and Tom chatted and finished off the wine, yes there'd been two bottles but it had been shared between the four of us, well I had two glasses. Consequently, I went to sleep literally minutes after I got into bed. Did I mention a very low alcohol tolerance?

I think I felt Simon get into bed, but I might have dreamt it. However, he was snoring away when I dragged myself out of bed at seven the next morning to start getting things ready to take to Bristol. I put the bread machine on and started preparing vegetables for soups.

Tom came down before Simon, and I made him some fresh coffee.

"Are you still going to Bristol?"

"Yes, I know it will cheer my father up no end, and let's face it he hasn't seen me for a while and he won't after new year unless someone pushes his wheelchair down here."

"I don't think I'll be volunteering."

Once Simon had risen and while he was having his breakfast, I took Stella's mirror and placed it under my bed. I told Simon what the package was, ie Stella's prezzie but not what was in it.

His was wrapped and hidden in my knicker drawer, Tom's was hidden in the top up woodshed.I had left instructions for Kiki to savage him if he went anywhere near it, savage? Well okay, lick him to death.

I'd given Pippa a small gift and something for the kids too.

Just for a change, I did bacon and eggs with mushrooms and tomatoes and sausages for lunch. By the time it was over and I had the dishes put in the washer, the bread was baked and I had difficulty keeping Simon away from it.

I packed up the cakes, bread, soups and whisky in the boot of my car then my overnight bag. Finally, I bid tearful farewells to Simon and Tom and set off north to Bristle.

It was Christmas Eve and the traffic was awful. I suppose all six billion of the world's population were on the same road as me. If they were walking, they'd pass me in no time, yes it was that bad.

It was well dark when I got there. I decided I would just tidy around, watch some telly and go to bed. At least the heating was still on.

The pile of mail was far greater than I expected, and even after removing what I assumed was junk mail, the rest took me until eleven to sort through. Five needed some sort of reply, which I'd show Daddy tomorrow.

I did tidy around, although it was pretty clean. I shoved the food in the fridge and and took my clothes up to my room. I read for a while in bed, but I was missing Simon and I sent him a text saying so. He replied similarly. I told myself I was silly, because it was only for one night. But that's how life is.

I thought back to Christmasses as a kid in this house. Then I'd be so excited that I was sure I wouldn't sleep. I always did though. I never saw Santa bringing me my presents. But then he never did bring me the things I wanted, a doll and a tea set, or a new dress, some smellies or makeup or even jewellery.

I did get a watch one year, which was a minor coup. It was a Minnie Mouse one, which my mother had mistaken for Mickey Mouse. So I got the girls' one and got ribbed in school for it. Secretly, I was delighted.

I got cricket bats and footballs and boy's annuals, which I read because that was all there was. I played with one or two cars, but they didn't compare with dolls. However, the year I got an Action Man, I finally got my doll and loads of outfits, but they were all men's things, so I made some feminine ones, which was when he disappeared.

Apparently we had lots of burglars in Bristol, who only stole Action Man dolls. In those days I believed my father.

Then the year I got a desk, which I painted pink. When I got up the next day it was back to white again.

Couldn't they see the writing on the wall, I wrote it large enough? I suppose parents only see what they want to. My father never understood why I cried when I opened the box and found boxing gloves in it. Nor could he understand my indifference to a football, even an expensive one.

Sure I ate all the sweeties and chocolate money that filled my stocking, plus the nuts and fruit and that was usually before lunch. I always managed to eat the meal, except the sprouts, wasn't too keen on them.

I thought about the books I'd had and drifted off to sleep. It was after midnight, and I wished myself and the universe a Merry Christmas.

I awoke about three, my face was wet with tears. I'd had this dream which had upset me. From what I could recollect, I'd woken up in my nightdress on Christmas morning and rushed down to open my stocking presents.

I knew which was mine because there was a dolly sticking out of the top, and I had some toy jewellery - a princess tiara and bracelets, and some kiddies make up too.

My main presents were a tea set and a doll's pram, plus one of those hairdressing heads and a set of brushes and combs to play with. I couldn't believe my luck, my most earnest wishes had come true, I was a girl. I was so happy I began to cry and my mother came and asked why I was crying. I told her because I was so happy and she laughed and told me not to be such a silly girl. It made me cry some more, which was when I woke up.

I was now twenty three years old and this was going to be the first Christmas when I would receive girl's presents. I lay there thinking it's all a bit silly because any cycling stuff I wanted was likely to be male or neutral stuff, which would be very welcome. I needed some more tools and one day I was going to be able to afford a proper workshop bike stand. I'd see what was available after Christmas, one of the online shops might have one reduced in the sales.

I drifted off to sleep and slept until about eight. I got up and showered, washing my hair while I was at it. I had my breakfast and dressed, then did my makeup and my hair. I wanted to look a little special for my dad. I'd brought a nice dress with me and some heels. So by ten, I was looking quite decent. I packed all the food and drink for Daddy, emptied the fridge of perishables, only the milk and I drank that, then off to Southmead.

The look on my father's face was priceless. I popped on a silly red and white Santa Claus hat just before I went into the ward. He went from looking a bit down to beaming in one easy stage.

"Merry Christmas Daddy," I said giving him a huge hug.

"Affy!" he shrieked, and burst into tears. It took me a few minutes to calm him down. Essentially he was upset because he thought I wasn't coming. Then when I did, he wept for joy.

I gave him his bottle of Glenfiddich, which made his smile even wider, then I told him I'd baked him cakes and bread and made him soups, he was overjoyed.

A little later we dealt with his post and I learned what he wanted me to do with certain things. I put up the cards he'd been sent, and gave him my own to him. We put that as pride of place, followed by one from Simon and Stella.

I reminded him that the irrevocable was happening in a week's time and that I was certain it was what I wanted. He nodded and looked far away. I suppose it made absolute, his loss of his son, although Charlie had been gone for a long time. He looked even sadder when I told him I couldn't come for several weeks while I was recovering from surgery, but I had some nice notelets and would drop him the odd line.

Then it was time to go. It was sad. Part of me didn't want to leave him at the same time, he was like the Ghost of Christmas Past, and I was waiting to celebrate my real Christmas with my favourite people. The sad thing was Stella was probably still in hospital. That was life I suppose, and at least she was still showing signs of it. I smiled to myself and set off south.

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