East Hull Christmas

East Hull Christmas
my time with Tessa was pretty much up
I felt it in my water,
sex had dwindled
from a summer of no holds barred
to an autumn of no holds – full stop
so when Tess asked
if I’d be her school Santa –
I figured, I’d misread the runes
and told myself I had a chance
I do not ‘do’ Christmas
for the usual reasons
but reckoned if I played my part
in the celebrations
my parts might get played with too
I spent September to December
in bedroom exile
laying awake wondering
what I’d done wrong
‘look on the bright side, matey,
at least you’ve got the door key’
Father Christmas day:
the school secretary
passed me a bin liner
stuffed with Santa Claus regalia –
opened a broom cupboard,
‘get changed in there’
a commotion from the corridor
as a 10 year old, as tall as me,
was being restrained on the
Headmaster’s ‘naughty settee’
I belted a cushion around my waist,
put on a sweaty Santa outfit and
over-large black welly boots
with a cotton wool beard stuck on
my transformation was done
I opened the door,
stepped into the corridor
the ‘bad lad’ gasped
his mouth dropped open
he leapt from the sofa
(I feared for my long redundant genitalia)
hugged me like a long-lost father
then scooted away
kicking doors and shouting,
“Father Christmas is here! the real one!”
Tess was not in her class
a harassed ‘supply’ shrugged,
‘she rang in sick this morning’
(I taxied back in my Santa outfit)
Tess had left a note on her door,
‘thanks for today… and everything.
I’m sure my class will love you.
I’ve gone away
leave the key next door’
I never saw Tessa again.

© coolhermit 2023
UKA Editor's Pick!
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critique and comments welcome.
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CH, me old mate, what you had done wrong was only think of your needs!

Another enjoyable slice from your nib.



Its yer own fault for going to East Hull.


Finally got around to reading your poems, Rick. I remember this one. All good!

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