Here we are, Christmas Eve, Eve… finally! The last few months have been tough and I feel like I’m limping into the holidays a bit but let me tell you something, I AM READY for them! I need some Champagne sparkle and Eggnog fueled laughter in my life. So my friends, even though it is only the 23rd, I am signing off and bidding you adieu.
We’re leaving for Toulon today (but not without a cheeky stop in Aix-en-Provence for a quick whip around Zara) and collecting Mommy London at the airport in Nice tonight and that’s when Christmas 2013 officially kicks off.
Christmas Eve will be très French; smoked salmon, escargot, oysters, fois gras, and a bûche de Noël along with buckets of Champagne, followed by a traditional English dinner on Christmas, cooked entirely by Mr. London (Gregory will be standing by taking notes). I hope one of the presents I’m going to be unwrapping this Christmas is a gift card for Fat Camp because I’m gonna need it.
I might pop in and say hi this week, I might not, I might just disappear into bed with Gone With the Wind (I’m FINALLY reading it) for all I know. We’ll see, I’m on holiday.
So my wonderful, beautiful friends who I adore so very much, I leave you with this story, my classic Christmas tale that I post every year around this time to scare the bejeezus out of you.
Originally titled: Nothing Says Christmas Like A Flogging and posted, December 15, 2009.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
OK, this is weird.
I was doing a little reading about French Christmas traditions. I figure since I’m here, I might as well find out the happenings of my favorite holiday, French style. And there is no use asking The Boyfriend, he is useless at relaying this kind of information.
Anyhoo…
In France, Santa Clause is Père Noël, nothing strange there, but Père Noël has a partner, and it’s not Rudolph. It’s an evil man named…dun dun dun….
Le Père Fouettard
(Sounds a bit scary doesn’t it, thought it needed that dun dun dun.)
According to my sources, the ever reliable Wikipedia, Le Père Fouettard was a guy who kidnapped three little boys, robbed them, killed them, and then chopped them up and put them in a stew.
Holy Reindeer Droppings! How the Fudge does this guy end up having anything to do with Sugar Plums and Mistletoe?
Apparently, Jolly Ol’ St. Nick some how discovered the crime (maybe when Le Père Fouettard’s name was flashing in red lights all over the naughty list) and magically resurrected the children (nice tie in to J.C. there – it is his birthday after all). Le Père Fouettard ends up feeling bad and becomes St. Nick’s partner and goes around with him on Christmas.
But get this, Le Père Fouettard doesn’t become all full of holiday cheer like Ebeneezer Scrooge, he’s still sinister, so instead of handing out pressies, he punishes all the naughty children instead. Usually with a good old fashioned flogging.
Nothing says Christmas like a flogging.
Safe to say, I’m usually a well behaved girl, but after reading about you know who (don’t want to type his name again in case it has some sort of Beetlejuice effect) I’m going to be on my best behavior this holiday season.
Don’t want you know who coming to town.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Wishing you warm holiday wishes and safe travel kisses to you and yours from me and mine!
It's Me, Sara Louise 
Leave a comment