Christmas on the PMR

[Big Jim]

In the small corner of Wales that is home to that most nefarious, precarious, unloved and almost unknown little railway, The PMR, it was a fine Christmas Eve. Well, fine for that area. On that festive night the rain was quite warm and the wind that was always felt to blow up the valley seemed to have lost some of its biting viciousness, there had been much less hail than normal and the swarms of nasty, little biting midges, that were tenacious enough to find the smallest patch of exposed skin had seemly called a Christmas truce.

The local Squire, the Hon. Titus A. Duxsarrs, and his agent, one Dai Anna, were doing their Christmas rounds. According to village tradition each of His Lordship's tenants was to be given a small piece of coal, a small piece of meat and a powerful kick up the behind from Dai, who was wearing a pair of steel toe capped, sequinned stilettos for the occasion. Dai was also carrying the meat and the coal. This was not as arduous a task as it might be imagined. The coal all fitted nicely in a tobacco tin and ferret ribs don't weigh much.

Following behind the two individuals was His Lordship's 21-year-old Daughter, Gladys who was intent on starting another Christmas tradition of her very own with her Father's male tenants. A rather robust young lady, sadly without the grace and charm that is normally found in the fairer sex. Regarding her looks, the local Non-conformist minister, Dai Abolical was heard to remark "If your dog looked like that you would shave its rear end and teach it to walk backwards."
Needless to say, most of the local tenants when confronted by Gladys, would choose a second good kicking from Dai Anna as a more enjoyable and certainly less painful option.

The last train of the night was running down the line towards Pentremorgan. On the footplate were Dai Uretic, sadly still afflicted with the 'old trouble' and Dai Abeties, eating a doughnut. The crew had their own little festive traditions as well, for many years they had given out coal from the bunker to anyone they passed on the lineside. Many a Christmas hearth was kept warm by PMR coal at this time of year and today the crew maintained the tradition of filling the out spread aprons of the farmers wives whose dwellings they passed. The only problem this year was the last train was diesel hauled, they all tried their best, but even the stoutest Welsh apron could not hold two gallons of heavy oil for long.

The sounds of the last train and the sloshing of smelly liquids could be heard in the Rectory where the Slightly Reverend Smith was preparing for the village crib service and reflecting on the same service from twelve months ago. All had started so well until the donkey turned up. It wasn’t a donkey at all as it happens. The animal in question turned out to be a very highly strung and temperamental stallion that had been borrowed from the local horse dealer and butcher, one Dai Verse. Who in turn had ‘borrowed’ it from Dai Agnose, the local doctor. Thinking that a church service was the safest place to hide the beast, Dai had re sprayed it grey and stapled some longer ears in place. When asked why the beast did not bray and only whinnied, Dai replied “It’s foreign see, that neigh means he-haw in foreign.”

The horse had behaved badly from the start. However, the real problem came while it was trying to bite the small girl who was playing Mary, who had by some amazing event been placed on its back and had remained there. As it turned and reared to try and reach her, the beast backed into a candle stand and scorched itself. If this wasn’t bad enough the paint that Dai had used was flammable and still not dry. Still tacky and now smouldering fiercely and very cheesed off, the horse flew down the church and upset the font. This extinguished the beast, who still maddened with pain and confusion galloped into the vestry and ran head first into a cupboard that held several gallon buckets of Rev’d Smiths finest homemade communion wine. This the horse attacked with relish and making a noise like an industrial suction pump, imbibed the lot.

The resulting spectacle of a blind drunk, spray painted and lightly singed equestrian mammal still sporting slightly wilted donkey ears being removed from the church was something that would remain in many of the villagers’ minds for many a year.

By now the last train had arrived at Pentremorgan and was being shunted into the carriage sheds. Dai Rhea, the Guard was walking through the coaches to see if anything interesting had been left behind. A noise from under one of the seats made him bend down to take a look. Underneath the seat was an old fish crate that contained, not the dozen kippers that Dai had hoped for, but a small baby. Surprised and alarmed Dai looked around in vain to see if there was any one else there. He didn’t really ‘get’ babies. While he knew what they were, he didn’t really hold with such things.

Clutching the crate, Dai went to find his colleagues. Dai Uretic, (still afflicted with the 'old trouble') and Dai Abeties, eating another doughnut were leaning on the bench in the shed. Dai explained the situation. “Is it local?” asked Dai Uretic. A quick count of the child’s digits resulted in the number 20, this suggested to the men that the child was from ‘Away’.
“You know what night it is boys bach?” remarked Dai Abeties, through a mouthful of doughnut.
“Well, You don’t think do you?” added Dai Uretic, (still afflicted with the 'old trouble')
The three men gazed at the infant with awe and wonder.
“Not a chance” concluded Dai Rhea. “Where would they find three wise men and a virgin around here?”

Happy Christmas from all the Assorted Dais and the Management of the PMR.

[LNR]

An excellent read and a very funny story, Merry Christmas Jim.
Grant.

[tom_tom_go]

Your church services Jimbo must be a right hoot!

[RylstonLight]

Big smile

[Lonsdaler]

Not so sure Jim. They said themselves, he was from away…

[philipy]

Jim, That is amazing, thank you.
Just caught up with it havng had 'net connection problems for the last couple of days, but sitting in the hotel garden reading that to SWMBO on Boxing Day morning has had us both in stitches. Thanks again.

[Soar Valley Light]

Hi Jim,

I hope you had a good Christmas.

Excellent work and very entertaining, you could make a second career out of writing.

Andrew