Six geese a-laying

Lovely start to the day- nothing like lying in bed with tea and newspapers. Lots of menu planning for Christmas. Went off to see Aged P at 10.30 - the usual Saturday, shopping and lunch, but she seemed a bit flatter than usual despite me turning The William Tell Overture up full blast in the car and showing off my conducting skills. We were parked at the time, I hasten to add.

Back home for haircut and Christmas shopping. Jolly tired now.

Saw this family in a farmyard when out driving with Aged P. Good fun I thought.

Here's George and Stella again

Christmas 1999

It had seemed like a good idea to spend Christmas on a farm. They had had visions of snow and happy farmyard animals, people wassailing and the local villagers inviting them to join in communal celebrations in the village hall. But the farmyard smelt of dung, there was no local village just an open prison (with a reputation for lax security) five hundred yards along the road, and the animals were few and subject to intensive farming. And of course it rained.

With three days to go until Christmas, they were bored with the shabbily furnished cottage and decided to go home. This meant sneaking all the presents back into the boot of the car when the ten year old twins were not looking, packing up and flogging a hundred and fifty miles back to South London.

George got that job. Stella got the job of distracting the children and telling the owners of the farm that they were leaving, hopefully in a way that wasn't insulting (not that they had met them, having encountered only a series of  bored farmhands). Stella took the twins - Luther and Lauren - for a random walk which involved heading towards an outhouse. Luther trod in a cow pat, Lauren told him he smelt of shit, Stella told Lauren not to say shit and in doing so said it herself, which set the twins to giggling, and then Lauren left a wellie behind in the mud.

Then they got to the outhouse, beyond which  was a pond and half a dozen geese. And a fat man who grinned when he saw them.

"Jolly good to see you" he said in a posh accent. "Really sorry not to have met you before, Roger's the name. How are you? We've only just got back from London I'm afraid, had hoped to be here before but the business was - well busy. You know how it is when you run a company. Always things cropping up. Or maybe you don't. How do you like the farm? Bit of a hobby rather than anything, to be honest. Bought it as a going concern last year. Well just about going. Doesn't make money. Have to pay someone to run it, don't know anything about farming. Or- tourism. How's the cottage? Haven't been in it to tell you the truth, didn't even know we still rented it out. Fancy a glass of wine? I think Jem's got something mulling. Bloody cold isn't it? Do you like the geese? We only got them last week and they've been terrifically good at making eggs. I'll give you some."

This breathless delivery of information and some subsequent conversation rather turned things on their heels. Stella found Roger and Jem (Jemima that is) Baxter to be in possession of a wonderfully converted farmhouse with the most up to date mod cons (and no smell of dung). She left the twins watching power rangers on the Baxter's very large television set and went to find Roger.

"You've got to unpack again".

"What?"

"I've just met our hosts. They're lovely and they have invited us to join them for Christmas lunch. And they have a drinks party on Christmas Eve with dozens and dozens of local folk coming apparently. "

"No" said George grumpily. "We made our minds up that we were going home. I've had enough".

"They've got geese" said Stella.

"What"

"Six of them. Well seven actually but I only saw six, I think the other one was in the barn. But it's a sign. Jem gave me some eggs." She held out three large waxy white orbs and gave that irresistible grin of hers. Irresistible to George that is.

"What do you mean it's a sign?"

"Six geese a-laying".

"And that's a sign of what exactly"

"Christmas". She looked pathetically sad. "I want to stay. Things change".

Yes, thought George, and I wish they bloody wouldn't. He sighed. There was only ever one victor in these battles.

Christmas was a roaring success. The Baxter's loved them. George reconfigured Roger's computer to make it run faster. The Christmas eve party was a model of rural idiocy; Stella got accidentally goosed during a party game by a cucumber wielding vicar who blushed intensely. The twins watched hours of senseless television and collected eggs every day. They talked about London and work and politics. The Baxter's were liberals with good business sense and eccentric opinions. Everyone loved everyone and it stopped raining.

The day after boxing day they packed to go home and were given a send-off in the farmyard. The Baxter's presented them with yet more goose eggs and off they went.

Halfway home they got stuck in a minor traffic jam. George said "Lovely people the Baxters."

"Yes" said Stella. "They really wanted us to be happy. So sweet. And I can't believe how many eggs those geese laid".

"He got them from the milkman" said Lauren, without looking up from her magazine. She had the enviable knack of being able to read without travel sickness, unlike Luther who got nauseous just reading road signs.

"What?" said Stella.

"The milkman bought them every day. I saw him give them to Mr Baxter. He sneaked out to the barn and put them where the geese lived".

As the woman in the car next to them in stationery traffic on the M40 said to her husband, it's not often you literally see a car rocking with laughter ...