The Ghost of Christmas Past

A Short Un-Dickinsian Didactic Tale

A couple of years ago we decided to get out of London for the few days that follow Christmas and take you through to the New Year. A retreat from the busy city seemed in order and Devon beckoned invitingly. Our friends Craig, Sue, James and Jens joined us and together we found a country cottage near the sea in Ilfracoombe. It was predominantly cold and windy as you would expect at that time of the year, and as such the evenings were generally passed in front of a wood burner, eating, drinking and making merry as is common at Christmas. With the spirit of over indulgence heavy upon us it was not too long before Jens succumbed to a fitful slumber in front of the fire, snoring softly, hands resting comfortably on his tummy, beer bottles to the left and the last remains of a Tesco Cheese Board to his right. For some reason it seemed like a good idea to the rest of us to give Jens a bit of a makeover whilst he softly slumbered. This was done, undetected by our good man until he went to brush his teeth in the morning and caught sight of his newly pencilled moustache and arched eyebrows, to name a few of his new features. In retrospect though it was a poor effort. Jens, be warned. This guy made us think of you and how much better we can do next time.

(Strobist info for any of the London Strobists! - handheld SB 800 to high left fired by CLS)