Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – A Flash Fiction

The Christmas Letter

It had been six months since Bea went to live with Papa’s sister. Now it was Christmas time and her cousins were writing their letters to Santa. 
In her mind’s ear Bea heard Papa’s laugh and felt his hand on her brown curls.
“Be careful who you write to, my love. Santa is no more than a fairytale, but Satan is alive and real.”
She thought it worth a try and wrote carefully, kissing the screw of paper before throwing it into the hottest part of the fire. 
Her aunt sighed, but said nothing, knowing how hard this must be for one lonely little girl.
Christmas morning, while it was still dark, Bea felt icy fingers at her brow. She opened her eyes to see a narrow, cold sort of a gentleman sitting on the side of her bed.
“You wrote to me.”
“I did, sir. Can you make my wish come true?”
“Do you know what you are asking for?”
Bea nodded and reached for Papa’s hand across the divide.
Later that same morning, her aunt found her quite cold in her bed but with a smile that lit her plain little face and made her beautiful in death.

Jane Jago

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – A Classic song for the festive season, cheerfully and irreverently reimagined for you by the Working Title Blog!

The Choir’s Lament

(To be droned loudly and nasally to the tune of ‘Gaudete‘)

Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day
Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day

Tiddly tiddly, tiddly pom, tiddly tiddly tiddle
I have lost half of my brain and I need a widdle

Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day
Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day

Stand we all inside the choir, masters come to school us
Tempers fuggit, Dominus, smacks us with a ruler

Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day
Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day

Deus, homo sapiens, strange sounds with no glory
We don’t understand a word, cannot see the story

Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day
Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is Latin
And we have to learn it by Christmas Day

Puer nobis nascitur, rector angelorum
What the hell does this all mean? We could die of boredom

Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is boring
But we have to sing it, on Christmas Day
Bloody hell, bloody hell, this stuff is boring
But it’s now an earworm. Won’t go away.

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – Listen in… and a bonus Giveaway!

The Night Librarian by Jane Jago, read by Tall Tale TV

It was very quiet in this area of the stacks, so quiet that if you listened carefully enough you could hear the books breathing. This portentous silence was broken by a rhythmic squeak as a trolley loaded with grimoires and magical texts was pushed firmly towards the dark corner wherein such resided.
“It’s no good you being like that,” a determined voice said. “It doesn’t hurt being shelved. It’s not as if any of you are chained. Although if some of you keep misbehaving…”
The rhythmic squeal stopped and the trolley rounded a corner, being pushed by a dumpy girl with a determined looking chin. As it neared the shelves where arcane and magical volumes were shelved the squeal started up again.
“Does somebody want to be shelved on 99b?”
Silence.
The dumpy girl began shelving volumes with practiced efficiency. She handled the books with care and respect, but would brook no resistance nor any other tricks. One of the grimoires snapped its covers at her and she slapped it firmly.
“Start that with me and I’ll chain you.”
If it was possible for a book to look abashed it did so, coming quietly to hand to be slipped into its accustomed place.
Once the grimoires were tidily placed in their proper positions, the Night Librarian closed the steel doors around their stack and locked them with a hugely ornate key.
On her way back to the centre desk, she paused briefly at travel and pointed an imperious finger. There was a bit of scrabbling as the books reshelved themselves in their proper order, followed by an embarrassed silence.
“Papua New Guinea, since when have you lived between Jersey and Guernsey?”
A dog eared volume leapt from a shelf and scuttled off. The girl regarded the now tidy stack for a moment before permitting herself a small smile.
“Better.”
She turned on her heel pushing the now empty trolley to the store room where it would be filled by the day staff who were far too busy to ever shelve books.
As they saw it, that was her job and the business of shelving had already taken a goodly part of the night, but at least there was just one full trolley left. She looked at it with some disfavour before grasping the handles firmly. Immediately they turned warm, and furry and she could feel tiny tentacles caressing the thin skin inside her wrists.
“Stop that at once,” she frowned awfully and the trolley behaved as she pushed it past Young Adult, Alternative History, and Romance to its designated area: Erotica.
“Here we are,” she said brightly, “your stop”.
These stacks were somehow claustrophobic, and the air was thick and heavy with what could be felt as either threat or promise. The young librarian appeared to feel neither as she simply proceeded with her work…

And the bonus giveaway for today and tomorrow is Twelve Tales of Christmas by Jane Jago!

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV takes time from his immensely important life to proffer profound advice to those who still struggle on the aspirational slopes of authorhood…

It is that time of year again when tinsel and fake snow are seen liberally strewn over windows and every house in the neighbourhood is illuminated by thousands of watts worth of multicoloured flashing bulbs. Giant inflatable Santas bend at the waist as they slowly prolapse onto the lawn and herds of plastic reindeer can be found grazing on every municipal greensward.

Ah yes, Christmas!

The time every writer remembers the magic as a child of seeing the Christmas tree lit up after hearing swearing coming from the front room for an hour. Or the apparently endless amounts of food on a groaning board, whilst relatives are sitting, groaning, bored and picking fights for the sake of it. Or the sound of carols through the shopping-mall loudspeakers being interrupted by non-sequitur advertisements and announcements. Or the excitement of unwrapping presents so quickly replaced by the despair as another Christmas jumper hand knitted by Great Aunt Tracey is revealed beneath the gaudy paper or a pair of thermal, odour-reducing socks in vibrant tartan from Mumsie.

This, dear Reader Who Writes, is the very magic you need to ensure you capture on the tip of your quill and then spread in decorative loops and swirls of language to fill the pages of that essential for every aspiring author – the Seasonal Short.

To be honest, a wise beginner will start with the lesser festivals of the writing calendar. Maybe a little romantic flash fiction for Valentine’s, working through to a Halloween Horror so that by the time you reach the height of over-played, sentimentalism that is Christmas literature, you will have the technique somewhat practised.

But fear not, mes petites, even if you have not been preparing, even if you have never set pen to paper or finger to keyboard in a literary endeavour afore this moment, follow my three golden rules and you will be in with as much of a chance as the most famous author.

Rule One: Make it Maudlin.

Do not stop at soppy and sentimental, instead toboggan through the more flaccid emotions and pitch straight into the point where Merry marries Melancholy and keeps up an affair on the side with Nostalgia.

Rule Two: Make it Short.

This is Christmas. Your reader will be well sozzled, exhausted from family rows and trying to avoid the Queen’s speech. Their attention span will not be long. A novella is too long.

Rule Three: Make it Shiny.

Use lots of words like ‘sparkle’, ‘glitter’, ‘glow,’ ‘luminescence’, ‘coruscation’, ‘shimmer’, ‘gleam’ and ‘twinkle’.

So there, in a Nutcracker Suite, dear Reader Who Writes, is my Christmas gift to you. Use it wisely and every future festive season will bring you joyous prosperity from your literary endeavours.

Happy Christmas.

Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV

You can find more of IVy’s profound advice in How To Start Writing A Book courtesy of E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago.

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – A Giveaway!

Dying for a Poppy

In a modern day Britain where the Roman Empire never left, Dai and Julia solve murder mysteries, whilst still having to manage family, friendship and domestic crises…

September MDCCLXXVII
Britannia is sweltering under an unseasonable sun.

I
The column of slow and ugly army supply lorries, left Londinium early in the morning, heading north-west on the main road to Viriconium. It was carrying a recently appointed Submagistratus of Demetae and Cornovii, his brand-new force of vigiles, their families and possessions and a vexillation of grim-faced praetorians.
Julia Lucia Maxilla wondered idly why they didn’t use hover vehicles. She mentioned this to her husband of just seven days – who happened to be the Submagistratus – and he laughed.
“Range my lovely, they would need to recharge and there aren’t any charging stations where we are going.”
“Right. Fine. It’s just that I haven’t seen a wheeled vehicle, leave alone been in one, since my brief time as a border guard on the eastern fringes of the Empire.”
Dai looked down into her face.
“By the sound of your voice that wasn’t the most pleasant of secondments.”
“It had its moments. But I met Edbert and found Canis and Lupo so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”
She could see he was dying to ask more and felt a surge of affection towards him for the care he always took with her. In the end, though, it seemed he couldn’t resist just one question.
“What was an Inquisitor in the service of the Praetor doing on the Eastern Border?”
She turned in his arms and squinted up at his face. “I wasn’t an Inquisitor. I was a customs officer. Undercover. But those days are gone now. I’m a very proper Roman wife now.”
He laughed and put his hands around her waist. “Not too proper I hope…”
She made a rude noise and crossed her eyes at him. Bending his handsome head, he kissed her into submission.
She giggled, pointing to the man-mountain that was Edbert, her personal bodyguard, who was pretending to be asleep in the opposite corner of the passenger cabin. Dai smiled, then glanced down and his face creased with laughter.
“Will you look at them?”
Julia followed his gaze and saw identical expressions of aristocratic disgust on the faces of Canis and Lupo, her shaggy grey wolfhounds.
When she stopped laughing, she prodded Dai’s chest with a determined forefinger. “Instead of behaving in that extremely un-Roman fashion, why don’t you explain your family to me? Since we are going to be living just outside Viriconium and less than a spit from where they are, I’d like to know a bit more about them.”
“I wondered when you would ask.”
She was instantly contrite.
“I’m sorry love. Should I have asked before?”
“No. I’m sort of glad you haven’t. Let’s me know you married me for myself not my prospects.”
“Oh. Do you have prospects?”
“Actually, no. But most people seem to think I have.”
“Me neither, so we’re quits there.”

You can keep reading Dying for a Poppy by E.M. Swift-Hook and Jane Jago for free if you download it today or tomorrow.

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – Granny Advises on how to do Christmas!

Rules to Remember

Ah. Christmas the time of cheery carollers, sleigh bells, and happy families. Or, looking at it less romantically, the time of burnt dinners, family fights, and divorce.

That first Christmas together. That’s the one that sets the pattern for all the others. Do not go to his mother’s. Or yours. Ideally, see no one and do a lot of sex. Given that that isn’t happening, here are a few ground rules.

1. Do not be cozened into buying them tins of mixed sweeties. There will be at least two thirds that nobody likes. You will be reduced to feeding them to the dog in August.

2. Booze. Do not buy eggy stuff. It looks like snot and it tastes like snot, and nobody will drink it. If granny likes a Snowball. Buy a couple of ready made ones in pouches. She will only go to sleep with her face in the sprouts if you give her proper booze.

3. The Turkey. You do not need something the size of a Shetland Pony to feed you, your husband, and granny. Small is beautiful. After all nobody really likes turkey anyway.

4. Cooking. There’s a lot of rot talked about Christmas dinner. Do plenty of roast potatoes and a ton of them little sausages wrapped in bacon, because that’s all anybody eats.

5 Most importantly. The Punch. It should be very strong. And to begin with it should taste nice. After The Queen’s Speech it pretty much stops mattering. By that time people will drink meths.

And that is the secret of Christmas in a nutshell (NB do not buy nuts. Somebody – usually your new husband’s cousin from Reading – will inevitably display the symptoms of anaphylactic shock if you do).

Granny’s Punch

1 litre brandy
1 litre vodka
1 bottle ginger wine
1 litre pineapple juice
1 litre ginger ale
1 net of baby oranges
1 large tin pineapple chunks
Loads of glacé cherries
Punch bowl/clean plastic bucket/WHY
Ice

Cut the oranges in halves, then throw everything in the punch bowl. Drink much of it yourself.

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – a festive poem!

In come I, December, with hale and hearty cheer!
With mulled wine and with wassails
With claret, port and beer.
With winter winds and woollen scarves
My breath in air a-misting
I’ve chocolate treats and holly wreaths
And presents all a-gifting
I’ve hot mince pies and sweet plum pud
And bulbs on wires a-hanging
See my pine trees in tinsel gowns
And children on drums a-banging
My carollers sing the ancient songs
That frame this time of cheer,
I bring you joy and laughter in
And leave with the new year.

Eleanor Swift-Hook

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – a Giveaway!

Songs from a Tone-Deaf Minstrel, poems from love songs to limericks by Jane Jago

Do you find life both amusing and frustrating? Are you an oddly-shaped peg in a regular hole? Do you march to the tune of your own band?
If any of this is familiar the poetry of a tone-deaf minstrel may be right up your crooked alley.

Ghost 
Creature of mist
Dances with night
Flirting with death
Flees from the light
Cries in the wind
Sings to the grave
When morning arrives
Dies like a knave

The poems take a somewhat skew-whiff look at life through the eyes of a person who doesn’t take herself too seriously, though not all is humorous.

So pop along and have a look 
Within the covers of the book 
And if you like the things you see 
Chuck a couple of quid at me 
And that is all I have to say 
Support a sad old bat today!

Songs from a Tone-Deaf Minstrel is free today and tomorrow for you to enjoy!

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – A thoughtful poem!

On Friday its good to remember
Monday was just yesterday
Life jumps from May to September
While sand in the glass drains away
Grab every smile and each sorrow
Squeeze from life all that you may
Nobody’s promised tomorrow
Only the gift of today

Jane Jago

Yule love this!

It is the festive season,
The time December sees in
And that’s our very reason,
To grant each day for you
Something that’s old or new
Perhaps a gift or two!

TODAY’S DELIGHT – Granny Advises on how to do Christmas!

The Christmas Cake

Conventional wisdom will tell you that you should have baked a fruit cake of the size and consistency of a breeze block sometime last January and that you should have been feeding it brandy weekly ever since. That you should have handcrafted marzipan from ground almonds and other ingredients too numerous to mention. That you should have spent many hours making Holly Leaves and Christmas Roses from sugar paste. And that your icing should be as smooth and hard as a frozen pond.

Pfft, I say. And again pfft.

Number one. Nobody eats Christmas Cake.
Number two. If they did it’s fattening.
Number three. Whatever…

But:

If you must make a cake, just chuck together whatever is your usual fruit cake recipe and shove a quarter bottle of rum in the mix. Buy a slab of ready rolled marzipan, ditto icing. Shove on cake. Sprinkle Maltesers, chocolate raisins, and dark chocolate buttons. Job done. If you can be arsed.

More sensibly, pop along to Waitrose and buy a (insert name of famous chef here)  thing. It will taste like shite but the neighbours will be impressed….