‘Twas the Night Before Yuletide

‘Twas the Night Before Yuletide
(This version author unknown, original Clement C. Moore)

‘Twas the night before Yule, and all ‘cross the heath,
not a spirit was stirring – no human or beast.

Warm cider was left by the altar adorned,
to celebrate the Oak King would soon return.

The children lay sleeping all snug in their beds,
while faeries and elves danced through their heads.

Yule Spirit

There is a decided lack of Yule spirit in this house.

We have the wall this year – a blanket of fairy lights with one of my little shelves holding our Jack Skellington tree on it. The presents that are already put together are on the bookshelf by the door. Everything is going sort of well, pretty much along what we usually have, only because of our financial issues this year, it’s a bit tense.

Nature vs. Nurture

I’ve come to believe I was raised very much by nature and nurture, mom having left me to nature (ie: my own devices) or to nurture (ie: my grandparents). Gran tried her hardest to get me to behave like a lady, which believe it or not I can actually do when absolutely necessary.

Afterwards I come home, eat beans from the can (and you know what that leads to), drink from the bottle and swear like a sailor whose leave has just been cancelled.

My mother was a firm believer in absent parenting. My grandparents, on the other hand, were not. Mom didn’t seem to care how or where I presented myself, so long as she wasn’t embarrassed by my presence.

My grandparents, aunts & uncles, not so much.