My sister loves Christmas. Possibly more than any other human being alive. She is so dedicated to making sure her family have a good time that she doesn't even have time to give her cats a bowl of water. She is the perfect hostess and mother, spoiling her children with untold riches every Yuletide and I sometimes wish that she was my mum too. But I am that rare case in Somerset, a man whose actual mother is not his older sister. How I was bullied at school for having a mother who was actually my mother.
My sister certainly goes to town on the decorations with a huge tree and candles and decorations all over the house. It's a marvel to behold. Except for one thing.
Outside my bedroom window is a three foot high mechanised figure in the shape of a snowman. It moves its arms up and down all the day long. Now for some this might seem a charming if slightly gawdy Christmas decoration. There are increasingly more things like this these days. I went to a Chinese restaurant last week and they had a four foot high mechanised Santa outside which had (I hope) a recorded voice wishing everyone happy Christmas and the suchlike. It was obviously a model, but there was something spookily life-like about it, like it had stepped out of an episode of the new Doctor Who series where mannequins come to life and evil Santas abound. I didn't like it. It scared me.
Similarly there is something unwordly and evil about this snowman, especially at night when the ghoulish figure lights up. The snowman itself remains a shadow but its eyes light up like a Terminator and its moving arms are sparkling with fairy lights and as I look out of my window each night I swear it is moving closer to my bedroom.
It is the most manic and evil thing I think I have ever seen and I am sure that my sister is letting out her dark side. She has done so much good this (and every Christmas) that surely a little dark side of her personality must slip out. If I don't write any more entries then the snowman has got me and if you hear of a spate of child and animal killings in the Cheddar area in the coming few days, then direct the police to the back garden of my sister, where I am sure they will find the blood drenched, smiling spectre of Christmas wielding an entrail soaked carrot.
