Posted by: thekimberleydiaries | December 24, 2010

The Kimberley Christmas Diaries


Seasons Greetings fellow geeks, Captain Curtis reporting for duty! Sorry I haven’t blogged lately, I have been working all hours at PoundWorld since Brooke revealed our child was due. It was hard telling mum I was dropping out of college, at first I tried to say I was going out into the world to find myself, but she’d heard the gossip and shouted back,
‘Well it’s a shame you didn’t find yourself before now, found a condom and put it on that thing in your pants!’
FML. Brooke’s mum wasn’t too bothered but said Brooke had to move out as they’d just got a new Rottweiler and there wasn’t room for that and a new baby. So Brooke moved in with us. I thought it would be alright at first, I’d be able to make sweet love to my Brooke completely sober. But she won’t let me, she said that if we did it, I might prod the baby. I’m sure that’s not right. And I got a B in Biology GCSE. But Brooke insists it’s true. So I’m sleeping on the floor in my tiny bedroom.

Brooke and mum don’t get on because Brooke doesn’t do anything around the house saying she can’t in her condition. Although she’s still alright to go out with her mates. She’s also always going to Tan-Tastic for sunbed sessions. She says that the rays go through her belly and will give the baby a ‘wicked golden glow’ for when it comes out. Is that safe?

PoundWorld is alright, I get fed up with old ladies asking me how much stuff is but I’m always polite when I say ‘it’s a pound madam’. I work with alright people, one girl, Emma, she’s nice and we have a laugh. She’s at my old college, but we didn’t really know each other when I was there. Bit of a shame. Going to the work Christmas do tonight, Brooke won’t come because she said it’s sad that I work at PoundWorld. It’s weird, but I don’t mind really. I wonder if Emma will come on her own?

My brother Ryan is a monk now. He sent a letter,
‘Alrite mum nd bro? Sorrie I left an dat but I av found god and its well wicked. If I pray an shit He will forgive me 4 being a rite nob lol. Tryen not 2 fink of ladies in a seksy way but we were hanging with sum nuns last week and one was proper peng, she was well up 4 it, well if she wusnt a nun an dat. But it was well cool Da Ryan Man still got it lol. Will b wierd not avin Xmas wiv u 2 but I hope we get some Quality Street at leest lol. Mary Xmas an dat. Luv R’

I’ll miss Ryan being here this Christmas, if he has the right amount of Baileys, he’s quite nice to me. Speaking of which hacker fans, I wonder what that Kimberley out of Girls Aloud is doing this year?

Dear online Christmas diary, y’alright love? I love Christmas, it’s so… Christmasseh, and a time to relax before next year kicks off. In January I’ll be promoting my debut feat. single ‘Like U Like U Like U Like U Like U Like’ and I’ll be starting an advertising campaign for arse trainers. In the meantime, I’ve got my Mighty Festive Ass down to our country house in Little-Minge-On-The-Hill deep in the West Country. Just before all this snow arrived as well! Us girls fancied a Mingovian Christmas this year. The locals have told us all about it in the past and they have some little traditions that have been passed down through many generations. There’s one where people gather in the village triangle on Christmas Eve (they don’t have a village square) where there stands a luxuriant holly bush. If it’s really cold, they play a game where a brave team of villagers have to run up to the bush and touch a branch with their tongue and the first one whose tongue gets stuck to that branch is the winner! It’s called Lick The Bush, sounds like fun…

I wanted to get here before the other girls so I could decorate the place and make it all festive. I wanted to get the right tree for the living room. I bought one not far from here. When I saw it there standing proud and erect, I knew it was the tree for me! I carefully buried my face into its branches to take in its intoxicating piney scent as I carried it to the car. God… I love it! I spent ages decorating while playing some Barry White. I went to bed feeling exhausted but very happy!

Our Cheryl, Nicola and Sarah made it down here a few days ago. They loved what I’ve done with the place, they said it was dead festive. Chezza brought our adopted kids Li’l Joe and Baby Cher, Christmas is a time for kids t’int it? That and an XX+XY Factah number one! Nicola brought the turkey. It was still alive when she arrived, but I heard a squawk early this morning, she must’ve given it The Stare™, and now it’s plucked and ready to shove in the oven first thing in the morning. Nadine wasn’t here yet. I was a bit concerned as the snow was falling thick and fast, would she make it for Christmas Day?!

Yesterday me and Cheryl went to the local church St Minge-Our-Lady-Of-The-Garden for the kids’ Christmas concert. We were going to see Li’l Joe do some of his singing, I took tissues because I knew me and Chez would cry buckets! Baby Cher was a little treasure, so well behaved until Li’l Joe started singing! There he stood on stage, I gave a little wave and he saw us and beamed back. Aww! I was welling up already. The pianist played the intro to Away In A Manger and Li’l Joe began…

‘Away in a manger
No crib for his bed
The little Lord Jesus
Laid down his sweet head…’

Both me and Chez had gone, in floods of tears we were hearing his sweet little voice. We were so rapt we hadn’t realised Baby Cher had crawled out of her Moses basket…

‘The stars in the bright sky
Looked down where he lay
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep in the hay…’

Then, Baby Cher was on stage!

‘STOP! Check this out!
Jesus in the stable
But he ain’t gonna sleep
There’s a party with the cattle
The three kings and the sheep
They’ll be dancing ‘til dawn
And the wine’s gonna flow
But don’t diss JC’s mama
She’s no ho ho ho!

The audience were on their feet! Li’l Joe picked up Baby Cher and they took a bow. So proud!

I got up this morning and Li’l Joe was upset.
‘What’s wrong love?’ I asked in my most maternal tone.
‘Big hairy man with leather boots isn’t going to visit!’ Li’l Joe blubbed.
I looked up and Nicola was stood there with her arms crossed. Uh oh.
‘What have you said Nicola?’
Nicola rolled her eyes, ‘I only told him Father Christmas didn’t exist for fook’s sake!’
‘Oh Nic!’ I frowned and hugged Li’l Joe.
‘Kid’s gotta learn Kimberley! The sooner the better I say.’
‘Never mind Auntie Nicola,’ I said wiping away Li’l Joe’s tears, ‘we’ll still have a special time. Run along and use some of Auntie Nicola’s make-up on the snowman we made.’
Li’l Joe pulled on his little coat and boots and ran out.
‘So have you heard from Our Nadine? Is she on her way?’ I asked Nicola.
‘Got a text from her. She’s driving here but the roads are terrible.’
‘Hope she gets here in time! The snow is getting worse!’ I sighed looking towards the window.

Cheryl then came down the stairs burping Baby Cher.
‘Aww here she is, so cute!’ I smiled, ‘And Baby Cher ain’t bad either.’
Cheryl smiled back at me.
‘Aww pet, that’s bettah out than in, reet?’ Cheryl said as she put Baby Cher into her bouncer chair. ‘Nicola could ya take Baby Cher to the back room and put on some hip-hop so she can bounce herself to sleep please?’
‘Yeah sure.’ Nicola shrugged and picked up the bouncer chair.
Cheryl then walked towards me and took me by the arm and lead me to the roaring fire.
‘Are we going to wrestle on the rug again?’ I asked.
‘No, no, maybe later.’ Cheryl said.
She nodded towards one armchair indicating I should sit down, which I did, and she sat down on the armchair opposite me. It was so lovely and warm, the lights twinkling on that proud and erect tree…
‘Kimberley, could you stop staring at the tree babe?’
‘Oh sorry love,’ I laughed. Cheryl took my hand.
‘That’s okay, I accept you an’ ya little ways. And us being here at Christmas makes me think about me life and what’s important to us like.’
‘Yeah it does, spending time with loved ones, hoping Sarah hasn’t knitted us Christmas jumpers again…’
‘Aye, that kinda thing, so that’s why it means a lot to us spending me Christmas with yas… and the other girls of course!’
I nodded, a knot was forming in my stomach, anticipating what Cheryl would say next.
‘Truth is Kimberley,’ said Cheryl, a frown on her face as if the words were hard for her to say, ‘there’s only one thing I want for Christmas. In the words of Mariah Carey…’
It was Sarah.
‘For fuck’s sake Sarah, ya scared the shit out of us!’ Cheryl said with her hand clasped to her chest.
‘Where the hell did you come from?’ I frowned.
‘Oh well excuuuuuuse me for ‘avin’ a bit of a Cockernee carol singalong to meself!’ Sarah sneered, ‘I was only bleedin’ coming in from looking out for Brünhilde and her ‘elicoptah. I’m worried she won’t find us in that awful wevvah. It’s bleedin’ brass monkeys aht there! Look at me nips, I could ‘ave someone’s eye aht wiv ‘em!’
‘Me an’ Kimberley were havin’ a private conversation.’ Cheryl said, barely containing her annoyance.
‘Well don’t mind me, me old china, I’m just potterin’ abaht, I’ll be as quiet as a mahse!’
‘Mmm okay,’ I said, then I turned to Cheryl, ‘Mariah Carey? What, you want a room full of fluffy white kittens? Because it’s a bit short notice I’ve already bought your present love.’
Cheryl shook her head, ‘No, not that. I said Mariah Carey because of the song ‘All I Want…’
‘SARAH!’ Cheryl shouted.
‘GLO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-RIA!’ Who the hell was that? It wasn’t Sarah this time! Suddenly there were carol singers pouring into the living room, ‘HOSANNA IN EXCELSIS!’
‘GLO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-RIA! HOSANNA IN EXCELSIS!’ The choir continued. Me and Cheryl had to run outside with our hands over our ears, what a racket!

My phone beeped, it was another text. Cheryl sighed and went back inside to see how the mince pies were doing in the oven. I looked at the text,
‘Kumbuhlay, ah’m stock un thu snoi, bot a wee man uz hayulpun may. Hoipe tuh bay thayur layter. Mwah! N.’

Oh blimey! Would our Nadine make it at all? The Mingovian Choir sang ‘LITTLE DONKEY’ and then left, wishing us compliments of the season. Some earplugs would’ve been more apt! I looked to the darkening sky and heard the faint sound of a helicopter approaching, it looked like Brünhilde, our randy Macadamian nonagenarian (must remember that if we play Scrabble later) had arrived. She landed the helicopter in the next field, causing a mini blizzard. I ran over shielding my eyes.
‘Ah, Kimberley mein liebling!’ Brünhilde shouted over the copter blades as they slowed down. ‘Schocking weather! But ich bin hier at last!’
I helped her out of the helicopter and gave her a hug, I could hardly get my arms around her!
‘Ah Kimberley! I seem even fatter as I have many layers on, I could hardly get into my helicopter, LOLZEN! I have brought many gifts, including some Macadamian delicacies. Pickled sprout?’
I looked at the jar of lumpy green liquid. ‘Er no thanks, not for now.’
‘Very well, as you please.’
We walked back to the house and the other girls greeted Brünhilde.
‘Where ist mein Nadine?’ Brünhilde asked looking around.
‘She’s still aht in the fackin’ snow,’ swore Sarah (I had to put my hands over Li’l Joe’s ears), ‘jam jar’s stuck, but she’s gonna be ‘ere as soon as poss.’
‘Oh mein Gott!’ Brünhilde frowned, ‘I fear it will get much worse out there this eve!’
‘Well we’re keeping in touch by phone, I’m sure Nadine will let us know if there’s an emergency.’ I said sensibly. But I was starting to worry.

Us ladies sat down to a sumptuous Christmas Eve dinner. Brünhilde’s pickled sprouts remained untouched. But Cheryl’s mince pies were delicious! Afterwards we put Li’l Joe and Baby Cher to bed and then gathered around the roaring fire.
‘Eggnog anyone?’ I asked.
‘No thanks!’ Nicola grimaced.
‘Cheryl?’ I picked up the bottle.
‘Er no thanks babe.’ Cheryl replied.
‘Does anyone actually like eggnog?’ said Nicola.
‘Even I don’t like bleedin’ eggnog!’ said Sarah.
‘But it’s traditional at Christmas!’ I said cheerily, ‘Come on! You can hold your noses while drinking it.’
‘Pfffft, alright then,’ Sarah harrumphed, ‘I’ll ‘ave one of Brünhilde’s pickled sprahts wiv it, they might cancel aht each uvva’s flavah.’
‘Ugh Sarah, keep ya fookin’ bedroom door closed tonight!’ Nicola frowned.
‘Nicola! Don’t be rude, Brünhilde brought those especially!’ I said with hands on hips.
‘Okay Kimberley! You have one then!’ Nicola smiled wickedly, waving that jar of lumpy green liquid in my face.
I gave a nervous laugh, ‘Oh Nicola, I’m completely full up from dinner!’ I patted my stomach to illustrate this.
Nicola’s eyes narrowed, ‘Eat it!’
I looked at the others and slowly reached into the jar. Tears welled up in my eyes. But I didn’t want to hurt Brünhilde’s feelings by refusing. I picked a soggy little green ball reeking of vinegar and popped it into my mouth.
‘Mmmm,’ I said trying not to cry or puke. I nodded and did my best mmm-this-is-delicious acting. I thought to myself, ‘all those years at stage school, don’t let me down now!’ I even did a thumbs up.
‘Ah Kimberley! I’m glad you like!’ Brünhilde grinned. She then sighed and continued, ‘It gladdens my ancient heart to be here with you girls this Christmas. At first I thought I’d be snowed in at my cabin in the Macadamian mountains with my young man friend Hans Schuldaz-Neesuntoez, but the snow thawed and he’d escaped anyway, so… Then to get your kind invite, well I couldn’t refuse!’
‘Awww!’ us girls sighed.

My ringtone went off, I looked at the screen.
‘Oh it’s Nadine!’ I said, ‘Nadine, y’alright love? What’s going on?’
I pressed speaker so we could all hear her.
‘Oh Kumbuhlay, ah’m guttun there sloiwlay but shorelay! Ah gut you gurls ah copay of may ulbum for Chrustmus bot ah hud tuh use one as ay ace scraypur!’
‘Aww Nadine, I’ve already got it so call that one mine!’ I smiled.
‘Aww Kumbuhlay, thank yous!’
‘Brünhilde is here now!’ I said.
‘Nadine mein liebling! I miss you so!’ Brünhilde bellowed.
‘Ahh I muss yous tooo! Mwah!’
‘When will you be here? You are missing the cosy times with me and the girls!’
“Ay doyun’t know, may car us crawlun along tha narrow countray layun. Maybe ah’ll stay on thu phoine for a wee while so ut’s lake ah’m thayur. Hunds fray of course!’
Of course!
‘That is wunderbar!’ Brünhilde smiled, clapping her big meaty hands together. ‘It just so happens I have a Christmas story to tell you all. Gather round and I will begin.’

By the glow of the fire and twinkling of the fairy lights, Brünhilde began.
‘Before I made my journey here, I did a little bit of research on the Christmas traditions of Little-Minge-On-The-Hill. It turns out that there’s a very interesting tradition exclusive to these parts. And no Kimberley, it isn’t ‘Lick The Bush’!’
I blushed, how did she know I thought of that? She continued,
‘It is something much spookier than that. Have you heard of Clive the Christmas Squirrel?’
We all shook our heads.
‘Nooo!’ Nadine said on speakerphone.
‘Well I will tell you all about it. It was Victorian times and winter was always bitterly cold. Little-Minge-On-The-Hill had a big squirrel community and food was scarce when winter was at its bleakest. Clive was a hard-working squirrel and hated to see his fellow squirrels go hungry. He had a family of his own to feed, but his big squirrel heart made him a selfless creature and he would hunt for extra nuts on Christmas Eve because that was when the temperature was at its lowest and the shops were closed for two days, apart from Spar. After he’d gathered as many as he could, he’d leave them by the trees of less fortunate squirrels be they friend or foe. Clive didn’t mind, he shrugged his little squirrely shoulders, it was Christmas and he was nice. But there was one squirrel who wasn’t nice at all. Maurice the Mean Squirrel sneered at Clive’s good deeds and was sick of hearing how wonderful Clive was. It got right on his squirrel tits. He wanted to teach Clive a lesson and stop the other squirrels bum-licking him. So one Christmas Eve, Maurice blew out the candle in his tree nest and quietly waited for Clive to scamper along and leave some nuts by his tree. Along Clive came, shivering against the biting wind but determined to do his charitable work. He dropped some nuts in the snow by Maurice’s tree and scampered off again looking forward to rejoining his family in their warm nest. Maurice cursed under his breath and jumped down. He decided to get rid of the nuts and tell everyone that Clive had left him out and he wasn’t a goody two shoes after all. He kicked the nuts into the nearby river, almost concussing a passing trout. Then he ran back up the tree to his nest feeling very smug. But Maurice wasn’t only mean, he was also a dumbassen! The clever thing to do would’ve been to hide the nuts in his nest but oh nein! He had to throw them away. That night, the snow fell heavier than ever and Maurice was snowed in. Three days later, he had starved to death!’
Sarah said, ‘Fackin’ bastard! He deserved it!’
‘Ah mein Sarah, we are all God’s creatures, but here, you are quite right. When Clive found out, he felt terrible. Forensic squirrel police couldn’t find any nutshells nearby but Clive insisted he’d left Maurice food. He got quite depressed, and it wasn’t just post-Christmas blues. Then a week later, he happened to be talking to one of his trout chums about it all and his fishy friend remembered that he’d almost been knocked out by some nuts while swimming past Maurice’s tree on Christmas Eve.
He said, ‘It’s bad enough swimming in an icy river without some squirrely bellend chucking nuts at me!’
Clive felt better then and his depression lifted. From then on Mingovians would tell their children that if they weren’t good, then on Christmas Eve, Clive the Christmas Squirrel wouldn’t visit them, Maurice the Mean Squirrel would visit instead.’
‘What would happen?’ Nicola asked sounding about five years old.
Brünhilde paused for a moment. And then said in a spooky voice, ‘He would BANG on the door and SCRATCH at the door and WAIL, ‘WAAAH LET ME IN! I’M HUNGRY, I’M HUNGRY, MY NUTS HAVE GONE! WAAAHHHH!’
We were silent, our mouths agape.
‘AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!’ We all screamed. Then I realised. I ran to the door. Opened it. It was Nadine!
‘Thank yous Kumbuhlay! Ah’ve made ut! Ah’m starvun hare!’
‘God, come in! I thought you were still out in the snow and listening on the phone!’ I said.
‘Noo, may batteray went flut und then ay saw the lates of the hayouse.’
‘Aww,’ smiled Cheryl, ‘all togetha for Christmas after all!’
‘You know wot?’ Sarah said with her mouth full and looking at the jar of lumpy green liquid, ‘These pickled sprahts ain’t that bad!’

Merry Christmas!



© Lisa Allen 2010


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