Once upon a time, not too far from here, just down the road, right at the roundabout, and down a bit there lived a troll called Mrs Webb. No. Delete. Go back. There lived a troll called Mrs Plant.
She was a grumpy old troll who hated children, which was ironic really as she worked in a school. But this was no ordinary school. No no no. It was a school for pixies. Some with round ears, some with pointy ears, but all very well behaved. They showed the troll they could behave by showing her good sitting and showing her good listening.
Despite her grumpy nature the troll was very fond of the pixies and they adored her.
On this particular day the troll was grumpy. Very, very grumpy. She had got out of bed on the wrong side. Now, when you get out of bed the wrong side, you are just a tad grumpy for the rest of the day. The troll however has her bed pushed right up against the wall, so every time she tries to get up she rolls into it and smashes her face.
The day doesn’t get any better. When the troll does eventually manage to get out of bed, she slopes downstairs rubbing her sore face, only to find Mr Plant has put her toast on, then wondered off to shave his hands. Resulting in the toast being over done. The troll likes her toast to be on the raw side of under done. More warm bread than golden toast. “I’m not having breakfast.” She stomped out the door.
As she walked to work she came across Pam B Tyler. There’s a shady character and one you should avoid. The trolls’ parents knew him at school; he was friendless because he was always so negative about everything. He told his own children that Grade B was ok but why didn’t they get an A or better still A*. Nothing was ever good enough and he always saw the worst in everything. He took peoples hopes and dreams and locked them away for all eternity. Because of this he was known locally as the Dream Snatcher.
Pam was waiting at the bus stop moaning about how the buses were always late and dirty, how they would run much better if he were in charge. The troll quickly decided to walk instead of taking the bus and tried to walk past unnoticed but “hello t-r-olla” leered Pam.
“Don’t talk to me” snorted the troll, without making eye contact because that’s how he stole your dreams and ambitions “you’re not my friend.” That is NOT the sort of person one wants to be associated with she thought and hurried off. Pam screwed up his face, moaned some more, then walked off in the opposite direction. That’s all the troll needed, bumping into THAT kill joy on the way to work.
As she walked her mood grew darker, her eyebrow lowered, her blood began to boil, all she could hear were birds singing sweetly, little pixies and elves saying “good morning Mrs Plant” as they went by and her heart pounding with suppressed anger until…
“NO. IT IS NOT A GOOD MORNING. I’M ANGRY. VERY VERY ANGRY! AND I’M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHY!!”
Once at school the troll began to write the date on the whiteboard. 30th November. “No, Mrs Plant!” shouted Bob. “That was yesterday. It’s……” before Bob could finish the sentence the troll yelped,
“Oh my days, that’s it! It’s it’s it’s DECEMBER!” The troll flung the pen down and slumped into a chair. The pixies weren’t alarmed until she started to bang her head against the table.
When the pixies came in from break time, the troll was still banging her head against the table. Bob went off to get a large plastic beaker of Mrs Webb’s ‘special coffee’ while the other pixies coaxed the troll back into her corner. Whilst they waited for Bob they showed her good sitting and good listening. Now the troll was a lot calmer she explained to the pixies that she didn’t like December. If she had to decide what to put into Room 101, December would be at the top of her list.
The pixies were bemused and asked why. “Because,” explained the troll, “I have my birthday, my wedding anniversary, the anniversary of the death of several close relatives (trolls are big into remembering lost relatives) and…” “CHRISTMAS” the pixies shouted. “Yes Christmas, worst of all. Christmas”. The pixies were apoplectic
“It’s alright for you pixies, working all year for this one big event but I have to start saving in May to pay for this one big day. I need to buy everyone gifts, not just my family but you lot and the staff too and I always forget one. I need to send gifts and cards off by a certain deadline to ensure they get there in time. I need to make sure food gets delivered at just the right time. Not too early or it will spoil or doesn’t arrive in time for the festivities.”
She continued to rant. “As you may have realised, being clever pixies, Christmas in school starts in November. There’s a Carol Concert to arrange knowing that half of you will be too busy helping Santa to even be bothered to turn up. By the time the end of term comes, I’m all out of Christmas cheer let alone the Big Day itself. I don’t think you lot realise just how stressful it is!!”
The pixies sat in stunned silence. It had never occurred to them that the troll was so unhappy. Grumpy? Yes, but unhappy? All the lessons she took had a Christmas twist, she’d wear a Santa hat for the whole of December. Ok it was black and said ‘bah humbug’ on it but still. She sang Carols, loudly. Actually she sang carols all year round! The staff panto, Christingle service, school dinner. Christmas school dinner. One of the few times of year they saw the troll laugh. I mean a really belly laugh. Was it all an act?
“Yes” yelled Clambrose as she entered the room. Clambrose was a mischievous little fairy with a naughty streak that ran from the top of her wire halo, which was tilted to one side and was determined to wear no matter what, right the way down her back to her tiny yet perfectly formed fairy feet.
Now, Clambrose, with her tilted wire halo, was a wise and clever fairy despite only being 12 years old. She knew many languages, including Slabian which is notoriously difficult to master, could teach maths to cherubs, pixies and elves, had a wicked sense of humour but most of all. The thing that made her one of the cleverest fairies the troll had ever known was she could justify everything she did, even if she just made it up on the spot! If Mrs Dura (head teacher at pixie school) told Clambrose she was doing anything the wrong way, Clambrose would politely yet firmly inform her that she was, in fact, not only out of order for trying to correct her but totally and utterly incorrect. She would explain to Mrs Dura why she was amiss and how dare she even hint at Clambrose might be wrong. Clambrose was also a temporary member of staff, so had nothing to lose by telling Mrs Dura exactly how it was. But I digress.
“She’s been lying to you for years.” Clambrose squealed. Surely not, the troll hated lies and hated pixies that lied. How hypocritical of her! “Maybe lie is too strong a word. Fib. No, even that’s too harsh. She’s been covering it up, hiding it, to spare your feelings.” The pixies looked confused. Clambrose went on to tell the pixies, some with round ears, some with pointy ears but all very well behaved that the troll may not like December or Christmas but she knows that they do and doesn’t want to ruin it for them. On the contrary, she wants them to enjoy it, to always have a Christmas they will remember.
They won’t be pixies for long; they should enjoy it with wonder for as long as they can.
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