There was a ‘thwump’ as he fell into his chair to read the paper. He was still wearing his badge from the post-Christmas festivities which read, ‘Father C.’ Scanning the front page, he groaned. ‘Pah! “well-earned rest,” what do they know? “Feet up for another year,” what humbug!’ Over the years, ‘Humbug’ had become one of his favourite words. ‘This is the last one,’ he said, calling through to the kitchen. His wife appeared in the doorway. ‘You always same the same,’ she said, ‘but you’ll be back out there again next year.’ Father C cursed. He hated being predictable.
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"Classic"
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