Christmas Eve Eve = Christmas Eve Mishap Eve

Posted: December 3, 2014 in Back To The Edge



The month of Christmas.

It’s here. And it’s been snowing like the clouds have eczema, and can’t afford the new prescription prices. I have woken up to see that suddenly, it’s Christmas Eve.

Which is just fine.

My favourite thing about Christmas Eve is that the day before it is Christmas Eve Eve. Brilliant. If only my name was Eve! Except then I’d be a woman. I’d be the biggest woman ever! Classic Bartley Green. Or I’d be a bloke. I’d be a bloke called Eve. Which is probably short for Eve-Bruce-Willis. Which is ace.

I’m playing a new 360 game in my jimmy-jammies when my stomach starts hammering tent pegs into my sides.

I sigh. I need to eat food.

Which means I need to buy food.

I’ve been putting it off, but the tent pegs have gone in with force, like they’ve been slapped into place by a photograph of Richard Moss. I decide to get dressed and head out into the first white Christmas  I’ve ever seen. It’s cold, so I’ll need my big winter coat. Only I’ve somehow lost a button. It’s still wearable, as long as nobody checks me out.

I pause.

And decide to take the risk. The second button also looks a bit loose. It’ll probably be fine, but all the same, it’s officially an extra objective for today’s munchy mission. Don’t lose a button. I can do that without any effort.

I’m so ace.

I go into the bathroom to style my hair, but remember the coat situation, and decide to ugly it up. Health and safety. I nod at Baby MGL’s toilet-based face and knock on Big Boots’ door to see if we need anything. He’s wrapping presents.

“Yeah, can you get some soap?”

I grimace. His presents are definitely getting soapier. I thought it was all that Thornton’s chocolate, but he won’t let me say any more, because the first rule of present soaping is to not talk about it. I grab my rucksack and open the front door. It’s white. It’s all white. In a not-alright way. I shut the front door. And grab my brand new prescription sunglasses. And open the front door.  It’s less white. I smile. These are exciting times! I’ve applied to university and had a good interview after some help from Andy St. Don. I could hear whether I got in any day!

I could even hear… today!

I decide to pop into the library on my way to check UCAS. I now have a handful of objectives. I decide to write a list. In my mind. Like a bloke whose mind is stuck inside a baby but who can’t control anything other than his own thoughts. If that was me, I’d definitely write a list.

1) Food.
2) Soap.
3) Libraryness.
4) Don’t get checked out. Especially at the library.

It’s a wonderfully fresh day. People are out of their cars and enjoying themselves. The snow has humbled the local peasant folk into outdoor action and induced a Dickensian community atmosphere, but with more burberry. I arrive at Stourbridge town centre after an enjoyable 19th century walk and head to the library, where I may or may not have some very good news…!

Oh no!

I don’t.

The library’s shut.

Objective #3 failed.

I see a neon light. And look up.


This trip hasn’t been a total waste. I see the words ‘Norma’s Cosmetics’ and feel like I’m in a Saskatchewan storm of soaplessness.

I pop inside and scour. And find soap! Soap for a pound. The best kind of soap! I don’t want to crack open my twenty, but I’ve also got a pretty pound coin in my pocket.

I put my hand in my pocket.

I put my hand in my other pocket. I pause. And sigh. And remember that it’s in my other trousers. Not to worry! I’m wearing my big winter coat with my wallet and a twenty inside. I undo my big winter coat’s top button, and stand startled as it swings open!

Oh no!

I scan my winter coat. My button-less winter coat. My wallet-less button-less winter coat. Norma looks at me with a silent-Buffy-episode lack of gasp as I drop my head and my homeless man hands.

Objective #1 and 2… failed!

I stand still. Silent in shocked dismay. Frozen mince flashes before my hungry eyes as I watch the soap mocking me knowing it will live just a little longer. I look it in the label, and wave a tearful goodbye of resignation as I open the door for myself.


30 downcast minutes later I find Big Boots playing a 360 game in his jimmy-jammies.

“You’re back early.”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you know yesterday was Christmas Eve Eve?”

I smile. I’m well aware of that.

“I’m well aware of that!”

Big Boots is dodging missiles fired from a fighter helicopter in a sports car.

I sigh. I love dodging missiles. And food.

“Christmas Eve Eve is Christmas Eve Mishap Eve.”


I tell him why I’m home so soon.

He laughs.

A lot.

And hands me my Christmas present.

I look at the present.

Soapless. I smile. I love it when a lack of plan comes together.

Merry Christmas from Big Boots.



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