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Festive Soap On A Rope

Door number five on the advent calendar opened effortlessly this morning. A small tug of the sticky tape applied by pilferer of its former confectionery contents (who’ll remain nameless) relinquishing the cardboard door from it’s union with the calendars façade.

With aspirations of elevating Christmas cheer levels in the Thirsk cottage I’m sharing with a group of friends, we’re adorning Christmas sweaters and partaking in what for many is a traditional watch of ‘White Christmas’.

Sitting in our seasonal jumpers watching a classic Christmas movie, a warm glow fills the living room of our modestly sized holiday homes. To clarify, this not an emotional glow of contentment manifesting from viewing the feel good old movie; moreover the physical affects from the flame on a 6ft advent candle situated upon the marble fire hearth.

Allegedly created from the ear wax of Santa’s elves, this monster candle was last year’s  Christmas gift from an elderly aunt. This over-sized trinket typical of her habitual penchant for gifting over the top and excessively large festive .

For instance, five years ago she bestowed upon the Strachan home a soap on a rope the size of a wrecking ball. A personal hygiene product so vast there’s still over half of it left sixty months on……. An absolutely monster soap, so cumbersome and heavy it frequently can be relied upon to unceremoniously knock the bath/shower screen from its wall fittings.

This colossal cleansing aid of substantial weight and size, restricting movement during a bath or shower time. Diminishing the bathing experience through resultant loss of space and discomfort at having to balance the bloody thing on your knees as you wash. Some may say “Well, why use it?”, to which I’d unconvincingly respond that I feel ungrateful not to.

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Anyhow, I digress……. Back to aunt’s giant candle present from last year.

God only knows how Mr Claus got it into chez Strachan’s living room last Christmas Eve. I’m pretty sure he didn’t come down the chimney with vast wax construction. After all, due to it’s sheer size, St Nick wouldn’t have been able to navigate the gift via that conduit…….. Plus we’ve not got a chimney!…… I’d wager he’d to take out the front bay windows to gain access for the mammoth item that contains more wax than the BFG model at Madame Tussauds..

To light the candle at it current height, I’m required to balance upon a set of step ladders. With the wick bearing a girth so vast you could use it to winch in a ships anchor, the process of ignition requires almost a full box of matches.

The heat it produces when ignited is quite remarkable. I’m currently debating whether I should have a chimney built to help reduce its affect, or just extinguish the flame to cool the room down a tad.

The candle’s light is so bright we’ve been attracting the attention of oil tankers from North Sea shipping lanes, who apparently have mistaken this wax monolith for a lighthouse…….A fact made even more remarkable by the fact we’re about 30 miles from the coast!

Its fragrance isn’t the most festive either. As I sit here, protecting my face with factor 30 sun cream, and donning my eclipse sun glasses, I’m not in receipt of fragrant traditional Christmas scents such as cinnamon, pine or robin sweat. Moreover, taking sensory prominence in this corner of a Thirsk cottage is the ambience of creosote and burning rubber tyre.

I know I’ll have to put out the flame at some point, however, blowing this bloody mammoth thing out wont be one of my feasible options. To succeed with that approach, I’d need to be able to exhale from my lungs with the power of a category 2 hurricane. Consequently, I’ll be required to undertaker online research if I’m to find a suitable extinguishing solution.

Right I’m off for a shower to get away from the god forsaken heat in this room…. That’s if I can navigate myself around the soapy wrecking ball in the shower cubicle.

 

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