The days close in on the main event, and the visitors are on their way, friends and relatives we haven’t seen for a while, including the “old man”, will be showing up. Last preparations, runs to the store, the gathering of wood, it is all getting prepared. I have met many, and many had met him, but it was the “old man”, who told the best stories. Every night over the Christmas period, he used to read us stories, from his head, the story of the turkey with the three heads, the most entertaining one of all. He had problems with his eyesight, didn’t know where to look!
What was the reason I remember the “old man”. why did others slip from memory, it was one of those questions that is not easy to answer, I suppose when you are small, it’s the great tales you recall as you get older, and the “old man”, well, he loved telling them. I realize now, many years older, and hopefully wiser, he was just passing the tradition on, a bit like Christmas itself, a reminder of other things, amen.
“and there was a slice of bacon for dinner and gravy if we were lucky!”
“did they do dessert?” asked siobhan, her face down
We would always fall asleep before the end. Isn’t that the great thing about a good story, it just lives on, with the help of the “old man”, of course.