The Night Before Census
It was this time of year, the night before
the governor’s census. It had been one hell of a day,
the inn was completely full. We were getting into bed
when I heard a lamb bleating outside our window.
I wondered what the matter was.
So, I put my trousers back on.
‘Don’t be too long,’ Sarah said with a nod of her head,
‘I’ll be waiting for you in this big, warm bed.’
It had been an eventful evening.
About nine o’clock, I was just about to close reception
when this young couple came in
looking for somewhere to stay –
they’d been travelling all day
and now everywhere was full.
The poor woman was expecting,
hands pressed against her back
as if to ease the torment.
I remember hoping her waters wouldn’t break,
the reception carpet had only been down a week.
Feeling sorry for the couple, I explained
that we were part way through
converting the stable block into holiday chalets.
We didn’t have electricity in those days,
but we had logs for fire, candles for light
and they were most welcome to stay for the night.
It must have been after twelve when I heard
the lamb bleating.
Crossing the yard that night
it could have been broad daylight,
I’ve never seen so many stars.
A particularly brilliant one made me think,
when they finally get round
to inventing police helicopters,
searchlights could be very useful for chasing villains.
I looked all around the yard and though
there was nothing amiss, I could hear a commotion
in the stable block. I went over to check.
The cheeky beggars
were having a fancy dress party.
The chalet-to-be was packed –
one couple wearing angel wings, three Aladdins
and four or five blokes dressed as shepherds –
one holding a real-live, noisy lamb.
I was about to blow my top when I saw the baby.
She must have had it, I thought
(Sarah says nothing gets past me).
The baby caught my eye and smiled.
Now you’re thinking it must have been wind,
but I know I’m right,
that baby definitely grinned.
I felt unusually calm,
congratulated the couple and said
‘Everyone, enjoy the party,
what a heavenly sight this is.’
And heavenly is not a word I use very often.
I returned to the inn with a warm feeling,
convinced that in that particular place
on that particular evening
all was well with the human race.
When Sarah heard the story she said,
‘Will you please stop talking.
Take off your boots and come back to bed,
we’ve breakfast for twenty in the morning.’
‘But Sarah,’ I said. ‘We should give those people a gift
that young mother out there’s a real lady
tonight, something’s happened,
right here in our midst
that child of hers is no ordinary baby.
Sarah I’ll lay my cards on the table -
I want a costume,
there’s a party out there in our stable.’
© A J Taylor
