Indholdsfortegnelse for December 2018 i Storytime

It was a crisp winter morning and Brer Rabbit had popped out to visit his old friend, Brer Bear. While he was out, Brer Fox skulked into Brer Rabbit’s garden, dug up his entire crop of winter carrots and stuffed them into his sack. Later, when Brer Rabbit got home and found his carrot patch all trampled and empty, he was furious – especially when he spotted foxy footprints everywhere. “Brer Fox! I knew I couldn’t trust him. I’ll get my carrots back or my name’s not Brer Rabbit.” So off he went to Brer Fox’s house. He knocked on the door, but Brer Fox didn’t answer. He knocked again – harder this time – but Brer Fox still didn’t open the door. Brer Rabbit smelt the delicious aroma of…

Christmas Day was only two days away and it had been snowing hard on the farm. All the barns looked like they were covered with thick white blankets. Tommy looked out of the window and watched his dad’s old yellow tractor chugging away in the distance. His mum had gone into town to buy last-minute gifts and food for their Christmas dinner. Tommy was daydreaming about the treats she might bring home when he heard something rumbling down the lane. A big red truck pulled up outside. It was Mr Johnson from the Christmas tree farm and he was holding two huge Christmas trees. “Two trees for you, young Tommy. Sign here, please.” “Two trees. Why have we got two?” asked Tommy. “Don’t ask me, lad. Ask your mum and…

Kristin was excited. She had travelled on a plane for the first time ever to spend Christmas in Iceland with her grandparents. “How will Santa know where to find me?” she asked her dad when they arrived. “Santa doesn’t come to Iceland,” said Dad. Kristin frowned. “We have our own special visitors here. Grandma will tell you all about them.” “Yes, you got here just in time,” said Grandma, hugging her tightly. “It’s December 12th, so our first visitor comes tonight. Do you have some spare shoes with you?” Kristin looked confused, but nodded. “Good. When you’ve unpacked, we’ll put one on the windowsill for Peg Leg and, if you’ve been well behaved, he’ll leave a little present inside.” “But who is Peg Leg, Grandma?” “He’s the first of the…

Our Christmas pudding was made in November, What we put in, I quite well remember: Currants and raisins, and sugar and spice, Orange peel, lemon peel – everything nice, Mixed up together, and put in a pan. “When you’ve stirred it,” said Mother, “as much as you can We’ll cover it over, that nothing may spoil it, And then, in the copper, tomorrow we’ll boil it.”  That night, when we children were all fast asleep, A real fairy godmother came creep-a-creep! She wore a red cloak and a tall steeple hat (Though nobody saw her but Tinker, the cat!) And out of her pocket a thimble she drew, A button of silver, a silver horseshoe, And whisp’ring a charm in the pudding pan popped them, Then flew up the chimney…

Christmas was coming and it was the busiest time of year at Ginger’s Bakery. Everyone in Storyland was craving mince pies, chocolate yule logs, and, of course, sweet gingerbread. “It’s a good job I can run fast,” huffed Ginger, dashing to the work counter with more Christmas cupcakes to decorate. All day long, he had been rushed off his feet, running to and fro with deliveries, serving customers and preparing orders. But there was one important order that Ginger still hadn’t even started, and he had no idea how he was going to fit it in. Ginger was worrying about it when Old Mother Hubbard walked in. “I’m so glad you’re still open,” she said. “Do you have any biscuits for my poor dog? Our cupboard is bare. My, you…

Once upon a time in Copenhagen, it was New Year’s Eve and the snow was falling heavily. It was almost dark and it was terribly cold outside. In the frosty gloom, a little girl was walking barefoot through the streets. She had been wearing shoes, but they were once her mother’s and they were far too big for her. As she ran across the road to avoid traffic, the shoes fell off her feet. She lost one and a little boy ran away with the other. And so the little girl’s feet were bare and stinging with cold. In her apron, she had several boxes of matches and she held out a box in her hand, hoping someone would buy it from her – but no one had bought any…

It was a bare, craggy tree with spindly branches which looked like they might snap at any moment, but it was the only tree in the estate gardens. Gabe loved the tree. He and his friends played by it all the time. They built dens against it, they sat in its shade on sunny days, and it was always their base when they played tag. And, in spring, the tree cheered up the grey concrete with its blossom. Mr Snider the caretaker hated the tree. When he had to mow the grass around it or sweep its blossom from the path, he’d grumble, “It’s in my way!” or “Who has to clean up all this mess? Me, that’s who!” Sometimes he threatened to cut it down, but Gabe didn’t think…