The SiP Saga Chronicles

Ho! Ho! Whoah! (Part 1 of 2)

Every December in the English Harbour town of Portsmouth, the local people prepare for the coming of the Christmas season by throwing a parade in the city center, a cavalcade of lights and carols, a procession of floats and flatbed trailers decorated in the spirit of Noel, that travel the length of Islington Street and beyond, before culminating in the lighting of the giant Christmas tree in Market Square.

At the back of the parade, always riding on the last float, is the star of the show, the man that every child, young and old, waits for in giddy anticipation - Santa Claus. This is, of course, not the real Santa Claus, as by the second week of December, he is suffering from stress headaches and performance anxiety somewhere close to the North Pole. Still, in the tradition of the city, a member of the public is nominated for the role of dressing up in the famous red and white garb and helping bring in the holidays.

'Who is playing Santa this year?' The city mayor asked, standing watching the hazy technicolor of lights muffled in the frosty mist of the December evening. He was standing with his entourage on the steps of the public library in Market Square; before him, the dark outline of the tall Christmas tree waited in anticipation, trussed up in a thousand dormant bulbs that would soon crackle into life.

'I believe it is one William Shanty,' a dark-haired clerk said, hastily checking her paperwork.

'Shanty? Not familiar with him,' the Mayor commented as the first float began to nudge around the corner, much to the excitement of the gathered crowd who had braved the cold to observe the annual tradition.

'He's a trawlerman; his crew is playing the roles of Santa's little helpers. Let me see,' the lady continued, leafing through the papers, 'Flynn McGinnis and...um...Peg?' She said, double-checking her notes to ensure she read them correctly.

'Very good,' the Mayor replied, distracted by the bright fairy lights and choral version of 'Frosty the Snowman.'

The streets of Portsmouth were lit up in a spectrum of lights, wreaths of holly flashing green from the lampposts, strings of white snowflakes tied to the roofs of shops, the flickering fractals reflected in the eyes of the patrons lining the pavements to watch the spectacle.

Families stood in excited anticipation as the sound of Christmas carols drew nearer. A gaggle of anoraks, woolen mittens, and padded puffers, a steaming throng of bobble hats and beanies, all standing in the crisp chill of the winter night.

Then, gradually, at the pace of a drunken snail, a queue of floats appeared from around the corner of the high street. A crazy, flashing convoy of light and sound. The high pitch of some unknown choir warbling through speakers, pumping out Christmas carols for a mile in all directions.

"Hark the Herald angel sing, glory to the newborn king..."

"This music is giving me a headache,' Peg moaned from beneath a fake brown beard taped to his face, rather brutally, by the Arkela of the local Cub Scout troop.

'Less moaning, more waving,' Flynn said, another bearded ally standing on the opposite side of the float.

'Who are we supposed to be anyway? Santa's beardy cousins?'

'We're elves,' Flynn said, waving at a family at the side of the road. No more than a toddler, their little boy waved a mittened hand back at them, rapt in delight at the slow-moving pageantry.

Flynn was enjoying himself, waving to the audience, doing an odd little jig to the music, and generally feeling festive all over. Until he noticed a smell.

'Sniff, sniff. Peg, what is that smell?' Flynn asked, waving at a pair of twin girls dressed as cute little elves.

'Oh, that? My supper. Peg replied, tossing Christmas crackers into the crowd, 'I didn't get a chance to have dinner, so I brought some mackerel with me. Thought I'd keep it warm while we were out here.'