by Swan, Tarn
Worse was to come. Clapping his plump satin-gloved hands, Teddy demanded that we all sojourn to the lounge (professionally decorated of course) that had been designated as the ballroom for the evening. Once there he drew our attentions to the French windows, which were richly curtained with blue velvet drapes. As we watched, the curtains automatically drew aside like theatre curtains, the lounge lights dimmed and Maurice flicked a socket switch and low and behold the garden patio burst into light to reveal a Christmas scene that would have graced a Disney film. We all gasped with admiration, well, not all of us. I gasped with dismay and Twinks gasped with jealous rage. Teddy had not one, not two, but three life size reindeers all nodding, pawing and twinkling in a snowy wonderland that included a conical light bedecked designer Christmas tree. The tableau must have cost a fortune.
Everyone crowded to the windows uttering cries of admiration, which had Teddy basking and Twinks just about frothing at the ruthless hijacking of HIS idea. It was he who had told Teddy about the reindeers. It was he who said what a nice garden feature they’d make. He was absolutely fizzing with spleen and I got a real ear bashing. All he had wanted was ONE mangy reindeer but no, he didn’t get so much as a twinkling venison sausage from his tight fisted partner, while Teddy’s partner let him buy three whole reindeers and a designer tree in addition to a snowstorm. I didn’t care whether Maurice had let Teddy buy an entire herd of reindeer and a snowy forest. Their finances were their business, but ours were mine and I was pretty damn tired of his complaints. If he didn’t stop whining I would take him home and tan his petulant arse.
Teddy Triumphant shimmied over and asked Twinks what he thought of his wonderful reindeer scene. Twinkles gave a twisted smile and said he thought it was perfectly lovely and he wished he’d thought of it. There was an elegant pyramid of Ferrero Rocher chocolates (admit it, we’ve all copied that ad) gracing a side table and Twinkles helped himself to one. Only he plucked it from the very bottom of the pile thus causing the pyramid to collapse, sending gold wrapped balls of chocolate bouncing everywhere. Batting his false eyelashes at Teddy he said, ‘oops, silly me. I’ve caused your pretty little BALLS to drop,’ he then savagely bit into the chocolate without removing the foil. Even Teddy was sensitive to the point being made and hastily shimmied off to find admiration elsewhere.
I quietly told Twinks to reassemble the chocolate pyramid and behave himself. Afterwards, declining my offer of a dance, he gathered together as much food as he could carry and a whole bottle of bubbly. Settling himself on a chair near the French windows he sat glowering out into the garden while stuffing his face and quaffing champagne. I comforted myself with the thought that at least he was quiet and accepted Maurice’s offer of a dance. I prefer dancing with him when he’s queening it. For some reason when he’s in a frock his hands are less inclined to wander, so my virtue feels more relaxed and I can concentrate on what my feet are doing instead of where his hands are going.
The patio display beyond the window was casting an ambient light into the room and I was enjoying the dance and the amusing anecdote that Maurice was relating about a surgeon colleague, when all of a sudden the patio lights flickered and went off. Before anyone could bemoan their loss they came back on with a vengeance plus an almighty bang and a huge flash. Everyone gave a collective squeal of shock along with a few unseasonable expletives, as the designer Christmas tree launched off the patio like a silver rocket, closely followed by one of the reindeer. The latter soared high into the air and over the garden wall to land with a thud on the conservatory roof of the house next door, leaving its two brothers twinkling in astonishment. There was a momentary stunned silence, broken when a familiar voice quipped, ‘never mind, Teddy love, at least you’ve proven that reindeer really do know how to fly, and so do Christmas trees. I bet NASA will have fun and games when their probes picks that up on Mars.’ The room erupted into raucous laughter.
Poor Teddy, from wanting to cudgel him I went to feeling sorry for him. He looked close to tears at the ruination of his Christmas tableau and was unable to understand what had happened. Big Mary, who is an electrician by trade, suspected a power surge. He said a tree branch had probably touched an overhead power cable somewhere in the locality. Teddy had just been unlucky that the resulting energy surge had found its way into his electricity supply.
Everyone plunged out into the chilly garden to help recover the stricken reindeer and the Christmas tree, everyone except Twinkles. Despite his remark at Teddy’s expense he looked rather shaken. I was concerned, but he said the bang had just given him a fright.
Big Mary didn’t go into the garden either. Borrowing a dry rubber glove from the kitchen he went over to the wall socket where the plug powering the plugs powering the decorations was plugged in. For the sake of safety he cautiously removed it from the wall. In doing so he discovered the possible reason for the power surge. There was a small strip of blackened foil around one of the pins. It turned out to be a piece of lametta, one of those thin silvery foil strips that supposedly emulate icicles. The tree in the corner of the lounge was dripping with them. Big Mary said Maurice had been very lucky not to get an electric shock when he pressed the on switch. Electricity was funny stuff and highly unpredictable in the way it arched. It could just as easily have blown up Maurice in the house, as the tree and deer in the garden. He was also surprised the surge hadn’t happened the moment the supply was turned on.
Teddy blamed Maurice for the disaster, as apparently he had been the last one to use the socket when he vacuumed the room prior to the party. He must have managed to get a piece of silver icicle from the Christmas tree wrapped around the plug pin and not noticed because the silly old sod was too vain to wear his specs. BM was reinstated onto Teddy’s posh Christmas card list when he said he’d call by next day and fix the tree and reindeer and sort out the plugs.
The party soon got back into the swing. Twinkles however got quieter and quieter and tended towards being snappish if anyone spoke to him. I asked what was wrong and he said he had a headache. He did look peaky and I announced my intention of taking him home. He didn’t argue. Lulu was enjoying himself and said he’d follow on later so we got a taxi on our own. Twinks hardly spoke a word all the way home and went straight up to bed. I got him a glass of water and some painkillers and took them upstairs where he was in process of undressing. I suddenly noticed that he was using his right hand as little as possible, which made taking off his tights and dance belt and un-tucking himself a very awkward affair. I asked what was wrong with his hand and he said nothing, his hand was fine. I insisted on examining it. The tips of his index and middle fingers had patches of red shiny skin. I knew immediately what they were and how he had gotten them. I was appalled. His face flushed almost as red as his fingers. Bursting into guilty tears he admitted he was responsible for sending Teddy’s reindeer and Christmas tree into orbit. He hadn’t meant to. He’d just meant to blow the fuses and put them out of action for a little while because he was angry and jealous.
Biting into the foil wrapped chocolate had given him the idea for the naughty trick. The foil had touched a metal filling in his tooth and conducted a little shock up into the nerve. Sitting near the window he noticed that the master plug for the outside display was near his chair, and it occurred to him that if he could conduct a small shock to the nerve centre, so to speak, the lights would fuse. The foil lametta on the nearby tree seemed ideal as a conductor. He pulled off a strand, leaned over the chair, quickly loosened the plug, draped the thin foil strand across the pin and thrust it back in. He hadn’t expected it to cause such a powerful surge nor had he expected to get a nasty shock from the plug. There was no blistering on his fingers to indicate that the burns were any deeper than surface. I reckoned the heat and pain would probably subside after a few hours. I smeared some burn ointment on the patches and he took the painkillers. I then cleaned his makeup off for him, seeing as he couldn’t manage with one hand. At the same time I told him exactly what I thought of h
is foolhardy action. It could have caused him very nasty, very serious injury if not actual death, as well as injuring others. He was ashamed and admitted that it had been a horrible, stupid, mean thing to do. It didn’t stop him trying to dredge up a bright side though. Big Mary would fix Teddy’s circuits and get his tree and reindeer twinkling again. He suggested that burned fingers were more than ample punishment for his actions. I disagreed.
As far as I was concerned his actions were a continuation of his tantrum over the financial restrictions I had imposed on him. I was altogether tired of him behaving like a spoilt brat at not getting his own way. I was tired of his refusal to take responsibility for the situation. It was always someone else’s fault, my fault for being stingy and Teddy’s fault for encouraging him to spend in the first place. Teddy is a pain in the proverbial and he is not exactly a good influence on someone with Twinkle’s personality traits, but he did not sign Twinkles’ cheques or enter his credit card pin number on transactions. Twinkles is aware of his financial limitations, as well as our joint financial obligations. He also knows and expects that should he fail to observe them I will take action within the perimeters allowed by our relationship. Action in this case took the form of a trip over my knee for a good spanking on his bare backside. I warned him, if he made one more complaint about money I would paddle him and paddle him hard.
He’s been much calmer since then. He hasn’t so much as murmured about having nothing new to wear to the Christmas Queen Pageant at the PP on Christmas Eve. Instead he’s been sorting through his extensive wardrobe to see what he can put together. He keeps coming across things he’d forgotten about and is enjoying the rediscovery. So is Lulu, who has been the happy recipient of some choice bits and bobs.
It’s about time for me to go collect him. He’s had no day off this week and he’s been working until half past six every evening. He’s shattered. He all but fell asleep in the car on the way home last night. We’re going to Val and Sandra’s for pre-Christmas drinks and to exchange gifts this evening. I’ve warned him we won’t be staying too late. He needs some rest, so he needn’t bother cosily ensconcing himself at the centre of a coven of women to drink G&T until it comes out of his ears, while exchanging scurrilous gossip, makeup tips and indulging in breast envy.
24th December 2005:
Gay Snowmen
I love Christmas Eve. I think in many ways it’s the best part of the holiday. I enjoy seeing all the prettily packaged gifts under the tree and I love the sense of anticipation, of waiting for something special. Even in these commercial times Christmas Eve still brings out something nice in people of all religious callings and even those of no calling at all. You see more smiles for and from strangers and you hear more greetings and good wishes being extended. I hope we never lose this essential aspect of Christmas. It’s what it’s all about, kindness, tolerance and hope for everyone. Soppy sentiments I know, but I don’t apologise for them.
Twinkles has forsaken his sober grey suit and tie and gone off to work all dressed up femme fatale today. He’s wearing a showgirl costume comprising of a tight scarlet leotard with attached skirt. It’s short at the front and has ruffles cascading down the back. He’s also wearing black fishnet tights, red high heels (his feet will be killing him by this evening) and long elbow length gloves along with a ton of sparkly jewellery and an elaborate feather headdress. When I dropped him off at work this morning I got out of the car just to enjoy the sight of him walking seductively across the road with his hands on his hips. Once he reached the pavement I wolf whistled and applauded and he turned, curtsied and blew me an extravagant kiss. I grinned all the way home. It’s traditional for the jeweller’s staff to wear fancy dress on Christmas Eve. They do it to raise money for charity. This year the collection is for a Cystic Fibrosis charity because Don has a little grandson with the condition. Twinks is a real attraction. The townspeople will go into the shop just to see what he’s wearing and to enjoy some banter with him. At various times during lulls between customers he’ll parade up and down the High Street shaking his tin as well as his booty. He’s in his element. It’s theatre to him and he puts his heart and soul into it.
I’ve been very busy and productive. I’ve already set the table in the dining room in preparation for Christmas dinner. It looks beautiful even if I do say so myself, not that Twinks will be able to resist having a tweak and twiddle when I’m not looking. He always has to interfere on some level. It’s a compulsion. I’ve prepared all the vegetables and put them in sealed bags in the bottom of the fridge so we don’t have to faff on peeling veggies in the morning. I also babysat for a few hours this afternoon. I had both Dominic and Gabby while their mums dashed around doing last minute shopping. Paul was working today and Frank is indisposed i.e. he’s in bed with a monumental hangover after over indulging at the Football Club’s Christmas party last night. Katie is not pleased with him, and that’s putting it mildly. He was so drunk that on the way home he and a couple of his drunken mates thought it would be a bit of a laugh to un-tether one of ‘sour git’ Brownlow’s snow globes and attempt to dribble it around the Close. It seems he and his wife have joined the social club and he hasn’t endeared himself to many of its members with his overbearing attitude. Anyway, they caused a rumpus with their shenanigans. Most of the Close’s inhabitants ended up on their front door steps enjoying the sight of Frank and friends trying to bounce the globe from one end of the street to the other, until Ray called the police that is. Twinks and I missed all the fun. We arrived back from Val and Sandra’s just as the police were leaving. Twinks was gutted. Frank and his mates got a caution from the police who in turn persuaded Ray it wasn’t worth the paperwork to file an official complaint. They said the Courts had more important matters than festive fuelled silliness to deal with. The globe was unharmed and safely re-tethered, mores the pity.
It was such a beautiful afternoon with a clear blue sky and bright sunshine that I took Gabby and Dominic to the park to feed the ducks. Gabby filled in for Twinkles by pushing Dom in his buggy, so as per usual I didn’t get a look in. She made us the most adorable Christmas card. It depicts two very glittery snowmen that are obviously meant to be us. They have their twiggy arms around each other and one is wearing a pink feathery scarf and pink fluffy high heels. I asked him in frocks for reassurance regarding the size of the carrot that represents my nose in the artwork. Surely the real thing was nowhere near that big? He said no, definitely not, but on the other hand the snowman’s paunch was remarkably accurate. Cheeky toad. I do not have a paunch.
It’s the Christmas Ball at the PP this evening. It should be fun, it usually is. Of course I’m aware that Twinkles is upset about not having something new and special to wear for the Queen Pageant. The expensive dress he bought was intended for this occasion and a part of me wants to give in and allow him to keep and wear it, but I’m not going to. It would not be good for either of us. He’s sorted out a costume and he’s rehearsed his ‘party pieces’ and he’ll enter into the spirit, but the light of competition isn’t burning as fiercely as it usually does. He doesn’t believe he stands a chance of taking the coveted Christmas Queen crown. I’m honestly sad about it, but it will have to be lived with. I’ll make sure the water is nice and hot for him to have a bath when he gets in from work and I’ll take him a glass of wine while he’s having a soak. I’m also going to present him with an early Christmas gift. I think he’ll really like it and it might just compensate for not having a new outfit.
Well, that’s enough chattering from me. Happy Christmas! I’m off to the hospital to take Barry some flowers and a Christmas present, and then I’ll collect my showgirl from work.
28th December 2005:
The Rise And Fall Of A Monarch
And there it is gone, for another year anyway. As I write it’s just coming up to a quarter to two in the afternoon and I have to report that already it’s been a very long and eventful day. It was snowing this morning, which didn’t predispose Twinks into rising
from bed any faster. He had his customary first day back at work post Christmas tantrum. He frigging hates the first frigging day back at frigging work, etc, etc…if you so desire refer back to the very beginning of this journal for the profane tirade in its entirety. This year it ended when he deposited a bowl of uneaten cereal in the sink. I was not pleased, not so much at the waste of cereal, but because he was still sitting at the kitchen table when he deposited it. It narrowly missed poor Lulu’s head before landing in the sink sending shards of pottery, milk and soggy bran flakes spraying everywhere. Lulu hastily fled the kitchen to get ready for work and Twinkles I’m afraid got swiftly transported to the wood shed (garden shed come junk store) where under the blank gaze of poor castrated David I made known my disapproval of his bad-tempered behaviour. He conveyed his disapproval of my disapproval by taking a large Cadbury’s selection box to work with him by way of his packed lunch. I wagged a parental style finger and told him if he so much as murmured about weight gain I would be very unsympathetic.
He still wasn’t speaking to me when I dropped him at work. My ears reverberated as he slammed the car door and flounced across the road. I watched, shaking my head, as he hurled up the door shutter with such viciousness that it recoiled and descended again. He hurled it back up and I was seriously considering going over to have a word with him when he suddenly lost his footing on the icy pavement and fell heavily to the ground. I could tell at once he’d hurt himself and all aggravation left me. Leaping out of the car I raced over the road to where he was crouching on the pavement holding his left arm. Throwing myself down besides him I began saying all the nonsensical things that seem an automatic response to witnessing someone have an accident, such as ‘are you alright?’ when quite obviously they’re not. He gave a scream of agony and dissolved into tears as I tried to examine his arm. I suspected his wrist was broken and got him to his feet as gently as I could. Using my scarf as a sling I used it to elevate his arm and support it across his chest, as per my first aid training course at work. After re-securing the shop I got him back to the car and then to hospital as quickly as I could.
