New Year and Restless

Christmas came and went with a woosh, speeding past in a blur of panicked visits to airports, sitting on planes, much German food (mainly sausage of one sort or another), a long trip down south across a country blanketed white, with frozen windscreen nozzles and long delays for accidents. Visits to hospital to check on my Father-in-law, see my Grandmother, and the rest of the family. Helping to clear a house out, cooking a ham and a long trip back north.

New year came and went with a woosh, speeding past but spending a pleasant evening out for dinner and finding two big boxes filled with copies of my first novel ‘The Missing’ delivered to a neighbour and no contact at all with my publisher.

‘Juvie’ has also been finished.

So all in all, I don’t feel very rested and I’m probably in need of a break, but I have far too much to do and still not enough hours in the day.

I also forgot to make any kind of New Year resolution.

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I did get to do a bit of reading so here’s a quick run down:

God of Clocks, third in the series in ‘The Deepgate Codex’ is complicated by time shifts. Hell is still a fully realised horrific place and Carnival is still the best character, but in other areas I wanted more.

Asterios Polyp is one of best comics I’ve read in a long time. Carefully crafted, whimsical but full of depth and interest. Clever and amazing.

The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch, is slight and probably not worthy of being turned into a single comic book. It should have been left as a short story. Though interesting to see Jonathon Ross and his wife in comic book format.

Batman: War Games Act One, is classic Batman with a full cast of character and plenty of punch.

Pictures that Tick is a series of short works by Dave McKean. Here you can see his evolution as an artist and comic book creator as he tries different ways in which to present stories and experiments with the form. A thrilling book.

No Dominion and Half the Blood of Brooklyn, are books two and three in the Joe Pitt saga, vampyre and Chandler-esque bad boy in New York City. Fast paced with cool dialogue and thrilling to the end.

Read this Week:

God of Clocks by Alan Campbell

Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli

The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch by Neil Gaiman, Michael Zulli, Todd Klein.

Pictures that Tick by Dave McKean

No Dominion and Half the Blood of Brooklyn by Charlie Huston

Christmas in a Good Catchment Area

Well I was going to do a long rambling post about how book sales were going and 'Juvie' was coming along, talk about this little film and it's relation to 'DarkFather', how I found this very funny, and give an in depth run down of my Christmas hopes and fears - but unfortunately I've been laid to waste with a cold, so I haven't done anything and I'm off to Munich tomorrow.

So instead I've written your own Christmas story. Enjoy.

Christmas in a Good Catchment Area

By Adam J. Shardlow

The boy opened the door and stared at the large black leather boots that stood upon the welcome mat.

‘Who is it?’ Came the call from over his shoulder.

Looking up past the heavy brocade trousers, the colour a deep burgundy russet, and the large barrel chest wrapped in a fur trimmed cloak, to the voluminous white beard that spilled downwards and frothed and curled elaborately around red tinted cheeks and deep set blue eyes, the boy smiled with delight.

‘I’ll see to it,’ came a second male voice as the boy’s father stepped up to the door.

The boy looked around the rotund figure to the antiquated sledge that was parked across their drive, eight reindeer pawing at the snow covered ground, steam and twinkling slipstream sparking off their flanks.

‘Ah - I see. We give to a set of charities by direct debit every month,’ said the boy’s father eyeing the imposing mythical seven foot figure standing by the replica boot scraper. ‘Rwanda and a couple of animal charities.’

‘It’s Santa,’ said the boy smiling and pointing upwards.

‘No - it’s just someone dressed as him. What have we told you about pointing?’

‘Who is it?’

They were joined at the door by an elegantly dressed woman in a figure complimenting suit, elaborate hair coiffured into position.

‘Santa,’ said the boy slightly more insistently.

‘It’s someone collecting for Christmas - sorry, you didn’t say which charity?’

‘But we’ve already given,’ she added.

‘I’ve told him that.’

‘It’s very late to be knocking on doors - we are a Neighbourhood Watch area, you know.’

‘THIS PLACE - IT WAS NOT HERE THE LAST TIME,’ said the figure dramatically.

‘Oh,’ said the wife as the voice rumbled through the house like a sound from some ancient poem.’

‘I see - he’s foreign,’ muttered the husband. ‘We’re a new build. Finished this year, good commuting distance to the city,’ he added in a slow and methodical manner, ‘and the schools are excellent. It’s really a very good catchment area.’

‘THE CHILDREN AND THE ORPHANAGE.’

‘Is that what it used to be - we didn’t know? They’ll have all gone now. Would you like some tea?’ Asked the wife, the politeness out of her mouth before she could stop it.

‘Bit late to be out,’ mentioned the father noticing that one of the reindeer was chewing on the hedge, another defecating on the drive. ‘I suppose, you have to pass all sorts of tests now to do this sort of job. You know, get the ‘little children’ test. It’s political correctness gone mad, I say’

‘GONE?”

‘Yes, completely mad.’

‘Santa!’

The boy put out a hand to touch the giant but found it pulled back by his mother who smiled discreetly.

‘What have we told you! Santa’s not real, he’s just a left over from a Judo-Christian myth. Sorry about that, it’s hard to keep them focused. That’s a very good suit by the way. Did you have it specially made?’

‘ALL GONE?”

‘You’re not ‘The Round Table’ are you, as we’re not members but our neighbours are and we always thought it looked good decent fun - perhaps you could put in a word?’

‘I WILL FIND THEM ALL THIS VERY NIGHT.’

‘Really? They’re making you work all night? Seems harsh - I suppose you don’t have much in the way of union representation?’

‘Santa?’

‘TONIGHT IS AS LONG AS IT NEEDS BE.’

‘Well, if they’re paying above the minimum then I suppose it’s all right.’

The figure bowed elaborately before putting a hand deep within a hidden pocket and pulling out a gift wrapped in bright green paper and tied with a perfect red crepe bow.

‘FOR YOU, SAMUEL’ he said, and placed it in the boys outstretched hand.

‘Oh you don’t have to, really,’ said the wife.

‘How much do we owe you?’ Added the husband resentfully.

The large mythical being turned and trudged back to his sleigh, small bells at his calves jingling the sound of Christmas deep into the night.

The door was closed to keep out the cold as the boy opened his present.

‘How did he know his name?’ Asked the father, reaching for the phone and dialling the police. ‘That’s really not right at all.’

The boy gasped with awe at his first present of the night, an exquisitely carved soldier in a red suit with a high black hat, a rifle over his shoulder. He smiled and stroked it carefully and held it up for his mother to inspect.

‘Oh, I do hope that’s Fair Trade.’