Botting Day

The day after Botmas, christened Botting Day,
a new chapter in this winter's tale.
Strax, with his trumpet of terror, a bark so mild,
a soft note in the morning's quiet symphony.

In the thick of snow, a challenge looms,
cars buried, a quest to unearth them begins.
Shovels in hand, but wait – no handles!
A comedic twist in this winter's tale.

A walk in the snow, a world transformed,
crisp and serene, a canvas of pure white.
Conor, cautioned against the snow's deceptive allure,
finds rebellion sweet, lying down anyway, a snow angel in the making.

Snowball fights erupt, a battlefield of joy,
spheres of white soaring through the crisp air.
The journey loops back to the Swan Hotel,
a haven of warmth in the winter's embrace.

Matthew, nursing a sore coccyx,
a reminder of life's unexpected turns.
On the bridge, a wait for the steam train seems endless,
a moment lost as his camera's battery breathes its last.

Then, the owner arrives, a beacon of hope,
wielding a proper snow shovel, a tool fit for purpose.
Progress is made, a path slowly carved,
a battle against the relentless snow.

But the Gaunts' car, stubborn in its icy tomb,
defies liberation, a prisoner of the storm.
Despite the efforts, the shoveling, the sweat,
they find themselves trapped, another night's stay.

Evening brings a feast of Botmas leftovers,
a mosaic of flavours, memories on a plate.
Ol, with his mince pies, the mince long past due,
a taste of tradition, a hint of the past.

A crème egg, a casualty to a mouse's curiosity,
Strax, innocent, accused in the nocturnal mischief.
Gifts exchanged in the glow of Secret Botter,
the essence of Botmas, a warmth in every unwrapping.

Rob takes the stage, a one-man show,
'A Botmas Carol', words woven by Charles GPT Dickens.
Improvisation and laughter, a performance to remember,
a story retold, a new tradition born.

Orla, in the spotlight, becomes the Evil Queen,
a scene performed, a fairytale alive in the room.
Magic in her movements, a story in her eyes,
a moment of escape, a journey to a land far away.

As the night deepens, Rob's birthday port uncorked,
shared in the wee hours, amid festive reminiscence.
Glasses raised, stories shared, laughter echoing,
in the heart of Botmas, memories are made and kept.