Authors Electric

  Christmas Day 2017. Joy to all women, children and men in this season of pantomimes and circuses. We seem to be living through a seven-ringed conflation of the two.  Ho, ho, ho ho.  Overseeing it all we have our very own grey Mother Goose and what a gigantic goose she is. Off she goes to church, the Vicar's daughter, in her Dolce and Gabbana shoes costing £600 while her government cheerfully cuts and delays benefits to the disabled and barely-managing across the land. Ho ho ho.   Behind her, the stage is filled with mugging, smirking, prat-falling clowns tumbling from Stage Right and, as ever, these clowns aren't remotely funny... But they are bigly sleazy, scary and sinister. You have to appreciate the sheer audacity of the humour. Shiny, smarmy 'Calm down, dear,' Clown Cameron completely misjudges his referendum, trips over it and falls smack on his face. But up he skips, to announce that he will see the negotiations with the EU throug...

Christmas is all about tradition, isn’t it?  And ever since I had to give in to my in-laws’ edict that presents were opened  after lunch (outrageous!) I’ve clung on for dear life to the remnants of my Yuletide habits.  So on Christmas Eve, while the family settled down to Cool Runnings or Home Alone , I’d be in spendid isolation in the kitchen, soaking up the traditional beauty of Carols from Kings - most likely with my hand up a turkey's backside. Yes, for me Hark the Herald is synonymous with an oniony tear in my eye. Oh well, it's traditional. Long before Christmas Eve, I'd be chuntering on about how the sideboard was constantly littered with bits of tin-foil and cardboard, and how advent calendars were meant to be about the nativity. When we got more space I insisted on only ever having a calendar WITHOUT CHOCOLATE ( not an easy thing to find let me tell you.) Selection boxes on the other hand were fine. We had them every year. They were traditional. ...

              A Merry Christmas  and a Prosperous New Year  to all our readers!           But it's Christmas Day and you want something a little different from the usual blog.           So I offer you this wintery tale...Or, at least, its first chapter.  ******************************************************** ******************************************* Ghost Dance Or, The Czar's Black Angel 'Are you cold, my children? Are you cold?' Chapter 1       In a place far distant from where you are now grows an oak tree by a lake.         Round the oak's trunk is a chain of golden links.         Tethered to the chain is a learned cat, and this most learned of all cats ...