Muckthwaite, Christmas, 2006
Not many folk know this, but local legend has it that Mary and
Joseph were looking for an inn not in Bethlehem, but in Muckthwaite.
Now, the theory that the son of God were born in the outhouse of the
Muckthwaite Arms may seem far fetched, but there's plenty of evidence
to support it.
For starters, Christmas dinner of turkey, stuffing and all
trimmings is a Muckthwaite local delicacy. According to Domesday Book,
tasty turkeys had been raised in Muckthwaite for almost 1400 years, so you
have to say that it seems more than a coincidence that it's now the
Christmas dinner of choice.
Then there's Santa's costume. Remarkably, Muckthwaite Mountain
Rescue Team has always worn red shell jackets with artificial white
fur trimmings. But biggest clue of all is graffiti hewn into beam in
Muckthwaite Arms. 'Jesus woz here, 0000' it says.
Now, there'll be some as say that it would be impossible for a
newborn baby to carve his name into a solid oak beam, but then
without miracles, there would be no Christmas. Case proven I
think.
Any road oop, Christmas in Muckthwaite will be unforgettable as
always. Come Christmas Eve the whole village gathers to play mass
game of footie with flaming Christmas Puddings. Reet scenic it is,
though key is to avoid heading pudding. Last year young Terry Twot
tried for last minute equaliser only for pudding to explode on his
head. Like Napalm it were and it could have been a lot worse were it
not for the quick action of Nathaniel Brown as poured brandy over him
to douse the flames. Unforgettable it were and quite spectacular.
Then on Christmas Day whole village gathers around tree as we have
sent annually from our twin town of Rinsky Korsakoff in Armenia to
open presents. Traditionally these are gift-wrapped livestock and
it's always heart-warming to see young 'uns wondering whether they've
got a piglet, a lamb or just a stocking-full of fluffy chicklets. And
as an adult, you can't beat a well-wrapped bullock or perhaps a
frisky ram with some nice glittery wrap.
Anyways, here's hoping you too have a glorious traditional
Christmas. I'll be back in New Year but in the mean time, cross your
fingers and hope for a goat in a gift bag. But no scrunching mind,
they hate that.
Alfred Todger
