White to Move—Supplied by Chess.com

Chess

Supplied by Chess.Com

White to move. Checkmate in two.

Supplied by https://chess.com the #1 chess website. Used with permission. For more chess puzzles please visit https://chess.com You can find answers for this activity on Page 84

A Mother’s Christmas Lexicon

by John Greeves

Christmas words have been borrowed, plundered or hoovered up over the last two millenniums. Here is a short festive tale dedicated to all those wives, mothers and miracle workers who ensure Christmas brings joy and happiness to those around them.

It’s Christmastide (Christmas time) the children are ramracketting (running and leaping) around the house on Christmas morning. It’s certainly not a mum’s day and who shouted out, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life?’ I’m roasting the bubbly-jock (turkey) and the rest of the belly-cheer (fine food for gluttonous eating) and soon notice how the foyle (light dusting of snow) has turned to a heavy fall. Already the landscape is ninguid (snow covered) and I can imagine the crumping (crunching onomatopoeic sound in frozen snow) as the children's rush outside and start to roll a small snowball (hogamadog) across the garden, watching it grow and turn into a giant snowball. They’ll be back asking for a carrot, an old hat and a scarf next, but at least they’re not under my feet. I’ve been up since five and feel exhausted, even now I could hiemate (hibernate) through the rest of Christmas and New Year. I’m annoyed, my husband (mein host), that disspeakable yulejade (someone who has left a lot of work to be done) has conveniently disappeared to enjoy another tumbler of glogg (mulled wine with brandy) and sits perched waiting for the first guest to arrive. He’d better not tell me it’s all about ergonomics and organisation! There’s so much to do and I have so little time to scurryfunge (to hastily tidy the house) before the first qualtagh (first

person to turn up) arrives. It will probably be Bob, the apolaustic (total devotion to enjoyment) hedonist, doniferously (gift bearing), a xenium (present for the host/hostess) that he bought last moment from some passing stall. If its anything like last year it won’t be gold, frankincense or myrrh, but will turn out to be the usual toe-cover (cheap and useless present) and will join the other dross bound for the charity shop. You can forget the glad tidings of comfort and joy, once the others arrive, including long-lost uncles and bemused aunts left over from the dark ages who on this Noël (variant of French nael) seem intent on overquating (that horrible feeling of over eating). Once the festive dust has settled and I finally get rid of them all, I know they’re all be suffering next day from crapulence (sickness or indisposition resulting from excess drinking and eating). In other words they’ll be feeling cr*p (the shortened form). Serves them right, isn’t it all about confelicity (joy in another person’s happiness) and aren’t I due some of this magical enchantment? I know when they’ve finally go; they’ll be time for some firkytoodle (festive canoodling) beneath the drudenfuss (mistletoe) once the ‘crawmassing’ (tidying up) and putting away has been done by both of us. He’ll put his arms around me and all will be forgiven, including my earlier murderous intent, after all isn’t it Christmas? Then it’s time for a snerdle (wrapped up cosy and warm in bed) knowing for certain, Christmas comes but once a year. Hallelujah! but tell me why, for goodness sake, we put ourselves through it every year?

John Greeves originally hails from Lincolnshire. He believes in the power of poetry and writing to change people’s lives and the need for language to move and connect people to the modern world. Since retiring from Cardiff University, Greeves works as a freelance journalist who's interested in an eclectic range of topics.