I'll Protect You From the Hooded Claw...

As Tooli and I ran around making the final preparations for Christmas, we were driving up to Grans and were delighted to pass five young Santas marching down the road.

I had visions of a very drunk crowd of Santas later on in the afternoon, dancing round the bars in town, but in truth, the story was far different.

After we left mum's we were driving up and out the town, and there walking into the Cemetery, were our Five Santas walking in behind another two Santas all heading towards a group of maybe 5 or 6 Santas gathered round a grave.

We drove on up the road wondering what was happening, considering what they must be doing.

Later on in the afternoon, I was driving back from yet another "last minute" excursion, and curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the car up at the cemetery and began the walk in.

I popped over to say merry Christmas to my Gran and Granda, and then looked around trying to remember where they had been standing. As I looked around it became obvious. It would be where the balloons were bouncing in the air.

I wandered over, and smiled as I looked at the fairly recent grave. Lots of wilting flowers, and faded cards, but a myriad of purple balloons, and Santa hats. Whoever it was lay there had not been forgotten by their pals in all the festivities, and that is the way it should be.

No doubt there are now, several very tipsy Santas in town, lifting their glasses to their recently departed pal. Who, I'm sure, is smiling down at their gorgeous display of love.