so it must be meant to be. Sorry Irene, your poem is so lovely and then I go and do this, will you ever forgive me? 
Not a true story I'm pleased to say, just what could have happened.
‘Twas the night before Christmas.
Leonie Parker © 2010
‘Twas the night before Christmas, the shops were all shut
and I’d not done the shopping, I’d sat on my butt
thinking they would be open til midnight at least,
there was plenty of time to stock up for a feast.
But alas and alack I had gotten it wrong
they had all shut their doors before I came along.
I had been so hell bent on avoiding the queue
I had missed out completely. We’d have to make do
with whatever was lurking on dark pantry shelves.
(It was moments like this I could use Santa’s elves.)
So that’s how it happened. I’m sorry to say
that the lunch I’d been planning for this Christmas Day
is just not gonna happen and sadly that means
that our Christmas Day lunch will be toast and baked beans.
