Waiting for Santa

It’s been a very busy week this week.

As well as preparing for a forthcoming book fair, we’ve been rehearsing more intros for the audio productions of our podcast Val’s Tales.’ The latest one is in two parts and is called ‘September Swan Song.’ You can listen to it here:


I was delighted when blogger ‘Books of all kinds’ reviewed my latest book ‘Alderslay,’ as suggested reading for the weekend. Thanks, Linda.


More news next week but I promised you something light-hearted, so here’s a short story for your enjoyment.

‘Waiting for Santa’

‘But I’m not sleepy. Why should I go to bed when I’m not tired?’

‘Because I said so. How is Father Christmas going to leave your presents if you’re still awake?’

‘Mum, I’m not a baby. Stop treating me like one.’

‘You’ll always be my baby, sweetheart. Now be a good boy and go off to bed and I’ll bring you up some cocoa.’

‘I don’t like cocoa. I never have, even when I was tiny. There’s a good film on TV I want to watch.’

‘Not at this time of night. It’s nearly nine o’clock. I’ll record it and you can watch it another time. I need to get things organised for when Nanny and Grandpa come tomorrow.’

‘Let me help. You shouldn’t have to do everything yourself.’

‘Bless your heart, but you’d only get in the way. I have my own system for doing things. No, you go up to your room. Don’t stay too long on that computer thingie. You’ll need to be bright and breezy for tomorrow. The big day. Sleep well, poppet and I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Alright, Mum. But you make sure you don’t stay up too late either. And don’t forget the carrots for the reindeer.’

‘I won’t, son. And I’ll make sure to leave out Santa’s glass of sherry, although we don’t want him charged with drunk in charge of a sleigh. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Mum. Don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ I said as I kissed her cheek and went off to bed.

‘Goodnight, son. Sweet dreams.’


‘Ho, Ho, Ho,’ said the big man in the red outfit. ‘Let me check my lists, Jimmy. I need to be sure you’ve been a good boy this year.’

‘For goodness sake, Santa. You’re as bad as Mum. I’m thirty-five years old, but yes, I have been a good boy. Now where’s my present?’

© Val Portelli December 2018

😁 Thanks for dropping by. See you next week.

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