Four calling birds

Every day at work is a madhouse at the moment. It takes me twenty minutes to get to the kitchen, I get interrupted so many times on the way.

If I wasn't so busy, didn't face the prospect of not having a job in three and a half months time, and was twenty years younger I might enjoy it.

George and Stella are helping me cope with the stress though. They now have twins. I love writing fiction. Such power over the character's lives...

Christmas 1995

Stella loved George but right now he wasn't making it easy for any of them. The twins were happy enough, wrapped in their thick coats and with all the energy that over-active five year olds have; but the love of her life was definitely not in touch with his inner child. In fact the inner child had probably sneaked out of the back door of George's psyche leaving a note for the therapist saying "please let me know when my older self has got his act together and can learn to enjoy life, and I'll pop back and play".

He didn't like the cold. Disneyland Paris was built on an exposed plain and the wind blew in on it and gave it an equivalent wind chill that had brass monkeys running for cover. They weren't even in there yet, just walking from their hotel in the late afternoon twilight. Personally she thought it looked quite magical; commercialised it might be, but now, just a few days before Christmas, the twinkling lights and the excited noise of children everywhere gave the place a wonderful atmosphere.

George, she could tell, was thinking about things like: Will I get a chill, how much is it all costing, and what are they doing back at the office?
Once through the barriers she resolved to do something about it. Reverse psychology.

"George" she said "do you want to go home?"

"What?" said a shocked George. "Why would I do that?"

"Well it's just that you're so - "

Here she stopped, leaned close out of the twins earshot , and whispered hotly in his ear:

"F***ING MISERABLE!"

George looked deeply offended. "Of course not. I'm just well - I'm just - well I don't know really".

They bought hot chocolate off a trolley manned by a recalcitrant French woman who did not seem to have completed her customer care training yet and walked towards Fantasyland. The twins showed no sign of gender bias; both loved Snow White who appeared out of nowhere and squatted down to give them hugs and kisses. Then they made their way to the temporary Beauty and the Beast Christmas Village which was a fair representation of an early eighteenth century street selling very modern foods and toys.

Suddenly, as they turned the corner, a band struck up and four blond wigged women suddenly appeared as if by magic. George had become slightly detached from Stella and the alarming entourage grabbed him and started to dance around him singing.

Stella thought: that's it. He hates this kind of thing. He'll moan it's all fake and start going on about how we should have done something different. As soon as we get home the photo albums will come out and he'll start asking what happened to us and where we sold out.

But no: George suddenly seemed to change. His face lit up in an embarrassed grin as they sang to him :

'Le douzième jour de Noël / mon amour m'a donné / douze elephants / onze feuilles pendants /dix petits bonbons / neuf grands ballons / huit brosses à dents / sept muguets blancs / six paires de gants / cinq livres de poche / quatres Oreilles / trois nounours / deux eaux de toilette / et un cochon dans un pull'.

They all gave him a kiss on the cheek and posed whilst Stella photographed him holding the twins flanked by the four dodgy blond wigs with siren voices, then they left him and ran off giggling in search of another victim.

"That was fun" said George, suddenly happy. The twins suddenly started yawning and Stella said it might be good to get them to bed.

"But we've only just got here" protested George. "I don't want to go home".

"Discovered your inner child?" asked Stella. "Or did those blond beauties help you discover your inner adult". George reddened slightly.

"Not in front of the children" he muttered.

The next three days were the same, with George leading them, exuberantly, from one ride to another. Stella was beginning to wish the inner child might grow up a little; but she could hardly complain. They took the train home on the afternoon of the last day, George looking mournfully out of the window and Stella and the twins looking forward to getting home to the cats and some pre Christmas peace and quiet.

On Christmas day when they woke up Stella had one present in the bedroom for George before they went down to enjoy Christmas in earnest. He unwrapped it suspiciously then laughed. It was a blond wig. She winked at him.

"For later" she said. "There may only be one of me but I can lead you as merry a dance as four French women any day." And with that they made their way downstairs...