When we were wee lads
and lassies, my grandmother
had the chimney swept on
this day every December for
as long as I can remember.

It was a circa 17th century
house with an inglenook
fireplace and bellows where
peat was burned from the
local bog.

No television ariels back then
and a thatch roof without any
guttering. On Christmas Eve
the fire was doused out with
water long before midnight.

A three legged stool from the
milking parlour was placed
directly under the draught
opening, which was used by
Santa Claus to come and go.

One 25th A.M. before coming
down from our loft rooms, I
spied through the banisters,
my grandfather had a broken
stool leg in his hand and said:

"He's gone and broken our
only stool and it will be a full
year before we can order a
replacement, why can't that
fukin eejit use the front door".



2ist December 2019.