By Chris Brown
coffee laced with brandy
The tension was ebbing away at last. After all those weeks of providing online lessons and then monitoring who was and who wasn’t responding to communications. Then having them back in and losing them again as they either caught the wretched disease or had to isolate because someone else had. And still they were harping on about standards when all people wanted to do was survive.
But he was beginning to feel mellow now. Almost mid-day and it was still frosty outside. The sun was shining. Just how Christmas Eve should be.
There was Christmas music on the radio. Jan was helping the kids to wrap up presents though goodness knows when they’d be able to deliver them. Still, they would look good under the Christmas tree. A deluxe mince pie was on his plate and his coffee was laced with brandy.
There’d been no staff do this year and no party on the day they broke up, so no Jacob’s Join.
Not like last year.
Greg had brought crisps.
Sam supplied hoola hoops.
Several people had provided sausage rolls.
There had been a plate of orange and lemon slices.
There were quite a few bowls of peanuts and a couple of Bombay Mix.
Jane had made a lemon drizzle cake.
Someone had thought lemon crud tarts were a good idea.
Hummus with carrot sticks.
And to drink? Beer, cider, white wine and lemonade. There was tea for those who had to drive but there was no milk left. Definitely no red wine.
People had been tired. They always were by the time they broke up for Christmas. All the usual pressures, excited kids on top of it all and all of the preparation still to be done at home.
He didn’t miss the yellow Christmases. There were colours in his lounge. Red and blue on the green Christmas tree. Pretty cards. Silver. Purple. No yellow. Well, maybe a bit of gold.
He took a sip of his coffee and bit into his mince pie. Oh, and as soon as he’d finished he’d go and get a bottle of red wine ready for tomorrow.
About the author
Chris Brown teaches English at a comprehensive school in the north-west. He enjoys writing and dreams of the day he can write full time.
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