If I had a magic wand in December is the last story in my Christmas stories book. It’s actually more of a list. Anyway, if I had a magic wand in December I’d make every Christmas morning white.

Glitter would stay where it was first put.

The end of the sticky tape would cooperate rather than hiding.

There would be three things, instead of just two, that are actually wanted in a three for two price promotion.

Queues would be patient and tut free.

Postage stamps would feature Roy Wood and Noddy Holder.

Weight loss diets would not be mentioned.

No one would refer to Christmas as the C word.

Velvet dresses would not attract fluff.

Flatulence would smell of cinnamon.

No-one would catch a Santa smoking in a car park behind his sleigh.

Blown up balloons would be easy to knot.

Factory workers would make paper snowflakes to decorate the windows.

The tuneless would be able to sing carols well.

We’d write a letter to Denmark thanking them for creating Danish butter cookies.

Pop up Christmas markets would be less like a budget shed showroom (I’m looking at you, Milton Keynes).

Cream would be offered with everything sweet.

Sage and onion stuffing would be offered with everything savoury.

Hats from crackers would be adjustable for those with a non-average head circumference.

No-one would draw attention to someone else’s non-average head circumference.

Fortune telling fish would tell everyone they were passionate (and so they would be, who argues with a plastic fish?)

Accounts departments would take disco dancing lessons.

Everything would come with batteries included.

Balloon phobias would resolve.

Sequin dresses would not shed their sparkly discs.

Everyone would find time to light an advent candle and be still for five minutes, appreciating the season.

Vivienne Westwood would make a wearable, affordable Christmas jumper.

Scoffed chocolate Christmas tree decorations would reappear every morning.

Jeffrey would work on the till in Toys R Us.

Either Nigella’s Christmas or Delia Smith’s Christmas would be on every day.

Only the people who like figs and dates would actually buy them.

Fairy lights wouldn’t tangle.

Woolworths would reopen and the Woolies Winter Wonderland catalogue would be distributed to every home in the land.

Traffic wardens would be excused their usual duties and would instead hand out chocolate coins to motorists.

Hangovers wouldn’t happen.

My spontaneous jokes would get a warm reception. Sample joke: Who is the Queen of Soul at Christmas? A-wreath-ra Franklin!

There would be a TV channel dedicated to people opening advent calendar windows.

Everyone would wear red silk underwear. The first day of wearing it would be known as winter draws on day.

Things that are better left unsaid by elderly relatives would remain unsaid.

Municipal Christmas lights would be switched on by a proper celebrity (not someone from reality TV) or a good old fashioned Mayor or Mayoress complete with gold chain of office.

Doctor Marten boots given as gifts would fit comfortably and wouldn’t need months of wearing in.

When making a Blue Peter advent crown the coat hangers would readily take on the shape required (and safe baubles would be used instead of fire risk candles, have a word with your dangerous nineteen-seventies self).

The Christmas pudding flavour Kitkat would be made again.

Denmark would write back thanking us for our thank you letter and sending us a tin of cookies big enough to use as a swimming pool once all the cookies have been eaten.

Hairdressers would be able to book you in the day before the big party rather than the day after.

All pastry would be light and crisp.

One hit wonders The Sultans of Ping would rewrite their hit to be about a Christmas jumper.

Putting mistletoe under your pillow would allow you to dream of the person you’d kiss next.

News bulletins would end with Boris Johnson reading Christmas cracker jokes.

Grown men would get the train sets they had always wanted.

Grown women would get the train sets they had always wanted.

Donkeys in churches would behave well.

Tights and stockings would not ladder.

Satsumas would be wrapped in bright tissue paper.

Josephs would not go missing from nativity scenes (this happened to me so I replaced him with a Count Dracula of about the right size).

Poinsettias would be hardy.

Nesselrode pudding would be in every supermarket freezer section (Google it, it sounds yummy).

Office managers would stop work early to read stories to their staff.

Everyone would be allowed a day off for Christmas shopping.

Satsumas would not be aggressively squirty.

Party dresses bought online would fit.

No one would wet themselves during a nativity (even if frightened by a Count Dracula).

Homemade gifts would turn out as imagined instead of looking like the work of a slapdash, badly co-ordinated six-year-old child.

Brazil nuts would be easy to crack.

Cats would sleep peacefully under Christmas trees instead of leaping up them to attack something invisible once every four hours.

Wives would smile indulgently at husband’s novelty ties.

No hamsters, rats, gerbils or other family pets would die.

Stomachs would not require Rennies.

People who like Marmite or Guinness would receive Marmite or Guinness rather than some coasters or an apron with the Marmite or Guinness logo on.

Nail varnish would not chip.

Octagonal boxes of Turkish delight would come pre-gift wrapped.

Russ Abbot’s “Atmosphere” would be played in shopping centres.

Noggs other than egg would be available for vegans (Veggnogg?)

Everyone would take a turn at working in a shop.
Carol singers would know the second verse.

Battenberg cakes would be seasonally altered. They would be red and green sponge squares with white marzipan.

The Queen’s speech would have a couple of good jokes and Prince Phillip would appear at the end in a party hat.

Gloves would remain in pairs with the strength of childhood sweethearts.

Everyone would believe in Father Christmas.

Grown women would get the rainbow legwarmers they always wanted.

Grown men would get the rainbow legwarmers they always wanted.

No one at a work do would resort to the safe but dull topic of work.

Free parking spaces would be available for late night Christmas shopping.

All drinks would have a mulled option.

Everyone would have a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.

 

I chose this book as my third Christmas read because it would be easy to pick up and put down in the busy week leading up to Christmas. The full title of the book is Once Upon A Christmas – Memories And Recipes From Your Favourite Celebrities. It was published in 1996 to raise money for the ChildLine charity and it’s got a real mix of people and writings in it. This book drew my eye because it was displayed in the window of the Mencap charity shop in Salisbury where I was having a festive day out. It is signed by Esther Rantzen whose work on the behalf of vulnerable young people and old people, and kind heart I admire.

As you’d expect, this book was very varied. The strangest celebrity inclusion was Mr Blobby. However this book was published when Blobbymania gripped the UK. Also included was a story from Jeannette Charles who is Her Majesty The Queen’s lookalike!

I enjoyed Martin Jarvis’s memory of visiting a Father Christmas in Croydon with his son. I liked Doc Cox’s coining of the phrase “peppermint sheep” as a synonym for “Bah! Humbug!” Toyah Wilcox’s contribution ended beautifully with these words; “Christmas to me, is a place where I wish time itself would stand still and embrace us all, for ever, in that feeling of love, security and happiness”.

I haven’t yet decided what will be my fourth festive read. Perhaps I’ll go right back to Dick Bruna’s The Christmas Story, which was my first ever Christmas read.

Whatever you’re reading, I wish you a cosy, wordy Christmas!

 

The second festive book I’ve read inspired by the Writerly Yours Christmas Readathon  was Nancy Mitford’s Christmas Pudding. It begins with a prologue that reads “Four o’clock on the first of November, a dark and foggy day. Sixteen characters in search of an author.”

Immediately I wanted to know who these sixteen people were. Some of these sixteen characters are a little bit awful! The book reminded me that personalities don’t change at Christmas! There is a mix of young and old thrown together, again a theme which is very Christmas.

This book was first published in 1932 but is very readable today. It’s set in Compton Bobbin, in the Cotswolds and since I live in Oxfordshire I found it easy to imagine the surroundings. It contrasts the excitement of London with the sleepiness of the country. If you enjoy P. G. Wodehouse, you are likely to enjoy this.

My next Christmas read is going to be an anthology of celebrity stories, recipes and memories, called Once Upon A Christmas, edited by Esther Rantzen in 1996 to raise money for ChildLine. I’ve chosen this because it’ll be easy to dip into and out of at this busy time of the month.