Miracle on Christmas Street: The most heartwarming and hilarious Christmas read of 2020 by Annie O'Neil

Author:Annie O'Neil [O'Neil, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2020-09-16T18:30:00+00:00

13 December

13 December

23:57

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Update from Christmas Street

Dear Will,

I hope your life isn’t too overrun by vol-au-vents and mini-turkey-drumsticks (is that a thing or is it all Henry VIII-style sizes???) I’m guessing I haven’t heard from you because you’re insanely busy. The penultimate weekend before Christmas must be mad.

Just a little update for you. We had a wreath-making day outside your grandfather’s a couple of nights back that ended up in a bit of a holiday sing-song which, I’m sorry to report, upset your grandfather (the volume must’ve been messing with his quiet evening in). Anyway, I saw him yesterday after one of the street’s other residents, Martha Snodgrass (who turns out to have a secret past as a jazz singer!!!), kindly gifted the wreath she made. It’s now hung on his outside gate. Have you seen the house? It has a genuine picket fence. I love a picket fence. And with Martha’s wreath on it, it gives the house a little splash of festive cheer. As do … erm … the other twelve or so wreaths flanking it.

The truth is, he and I had a teensy tiny run-in over the wreath (well, Christmas in general). After a rather lively exchange, he may have slammed the door in my face. I didn’t take this very well and might have accidentally-on-purpose asked all of my neighbours who were awake at ten last night to let me hang their wreaths on his fence in protest. He’s a bit Christmas resistant, but, in fairness, so am I, so not judging!! Much.

In fact, it’s my turn to do the advent calendar tomorrow (twenty-four hours and counting). I have zero idea what to do. Sunday night’s was good. Pin the nose on Rudolph with mulled wine (you drank wine then pinned the nose unless, of course, you were a kid, in which case it was red cordial). Tonight’s was weird. Maybe it’s because they’re number 13, I don’t know, but … When we arrived we were all handed something. A broom, a dusting cloth, the hoover. And elves’ hats. Then we were all set to work to make up ‘Santa’s Magic Wonderland’. And by Santa’s Magic Wonderland, what my neighbours actually meant was: clean their house and set it up for Christmas with them supervising. (Note to self: never accept a dinner invitation to number 13. Could end up making it myself!)

Do you even know what I’m talking about? I’d never heard of a living advent calendar before I moved here. Basically, it involves turning our street, which has twenty-four houses, into a living advent calendar. First night snowball fights, second kazoo carolling etc., etc. My idea of a total nightmare as I’d vowed not to do Christmas this year. Yes, I could hide in my house like your grandfather does, but, I will reluctantly admit, some of the nights have been fun and as a newbie on the street who is becoming a bit close to morphing into a hermit, decorating sugar cookies and making wreaths is as good a way as any to get to know thy neighbour.

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