The Sounds of Grandads Christmas

Little Tim lived with his parents in a town called West Medina. 

His Grandad lived on the other side of the river, in a small village called East Medina. 

West Medina was a bustling town with a high street full of shops, bars, and restaurants. 

East Medina, was much tinier, with only a few cottages, a church, and a post office. 

The River Medina separated the two areas and to cross it, travellers could either use the chain ferry or make the much longer journey round by road.

The ferry service took less than five minutes to make the crossing and it was little Tim's preferred mode of transport. 

Whenever onboard, he would imagine that he was the captain of a wooden pirate ship, crossing a treacherous sea to a desert island where his Grandad, another ruthless pirate, stood guard over their buried treasure. 

The return journey to West Medina was somewhat less exciting, but because it was a busy river there was always something worthy of his attention.

Tim's Grandad lived in a small cottage, surrounded by a large private garden that grew sweet-smelling flowers. 

His grandad had turned it into a sensory garden by adding wind chimes, which made it feel and sound like a magical place. 

In the middle of his lawn stood a large wooden bird table, and every morning, his Grandad would brave the cold to feed his feathered friends. Sometimes even the red squirrels would visit to feast on any leftover nuts and bread crumbs. 

Tim's Grandad always insisted on leaving a saucer of milk on the doorstep each night for what he called his friendly hedgehog. 

But Tim doubted the creature’s existence, as neither he nor his grandad had ever seen it, and yet, every morning, upon inspection of the saucer, the milk would be missing, so something was clearly enjoying the nightly ritual.
Back at his home in West Medina there was no garden of which to speak of. It was nothing more than a small concrete courtyard, almost filled by a large shed, and a few scattered pots that contained nothing more than weeds.

It made Tim's visits to his Grandad's garden all the more special, as It was like playing in his own adventure playground, and every now and then, his Grandad would bring out pots of tea on a tray full of his favourite biscuits.
Tim loved spending time at his Grandad's. The pace of life seemed less frantic, and he was always made to feel most welcome. 

Home life for Tim was ‌much different. His parents were too busy to play games with him, and never read him stories. 

Instead, Tim would often sit for hours on end alone in his bedroom, watching cartoons or playing games on his computer.

The cottage in which Grandad lived had a large open log fire in the sitting room, and when lit it would warm every inch of his body. There was no television, just a small portable radio that his Grandad kept switched on all day, to play his favourite music and listen to the news. 

His grandad would often turn it off to tell him wonderful stories, and sometimes they would play simple games such as I-spy, which Grandad  would always win, despite being born blind.
It was Christmas Eve and Tim's Mum had some last-minute Christmas shopping to do. Tim's father needed to pop into East Medina for an hour to finish off some work, so Tim asked if he could be dropped off at his Grandads on the way.
The ferry service was out of action due to the heavy snow, so they had to make the longer journey around by car. 

When they arrived at Grandad's cottage, He was already waiting on the doorstep.
“Come on into the warm young Tim. There are mince pies warming in front of the fire and fresh cream in the fridge.”
After saying goodbye to his father, Tim followed his Grandad into the hallway and placed his gloves and scarf on the enormous coat stand by the front door. 

His Grandad  had  just put some new logs on the fire, making it pop and fizzle. 

“Listen to those logs hissing and moaning at me for throwing them onto the fire.”
His Grandad always had a very vivid sense of imagination. That's what made him extra special. Some of the stories he told Tim were far better than any he had read in his books.
They sat in their respective chairs, either side of the log fire and played a quick game of I-spy, which his Grandad won again, of course.

“How do you do that, Grandad, when you can't see?” asked Tim.
“I use my senses." He said chuckling.

"I know where everything in my house is. If I were to play a game of I-spy at your house, I would probably lose every time.”
“When are you coming to my house next?” Asked Tim.
“I will be there tomorrow. Your Mum and Dad have kindly invited me over for Christmas dinner, and afterwards, you can tell me all about the lovely presents you received from Father Christmas.”
“Now, would you like to see some magic little Tim?”
“Yes, please, Grandad.” Tim said excitedly.
“Very well. Fetch me that large seashell from the window ledge and hold it close to your ear,” Tim did as instructed.
“Now tell me what you can hear?”
“I can hear the sea, Grandad, and I can hear waves crashing against the shore.”
“Every shell has its own distinct sound of the sea. That's Mother Nature's magic! 

Every object in this house has a sound too if you know how to listen out for it.”
“Is that how you know where everything is in your house, Grandad?”
“Precisely. Because I was born blind, all my other senses, such as my hearing, smell, and touch, are all so much better than the average person's.”
“So how do you know what a Christmas tree looks like, Grandad?”
“That's easy. I use my senses, I can feel the texture of the leaves and the smell of pine, and the rest is down to my imagination. 

Anyway, enough of that, before we have our supper, let's put our coats on and go outside to build a giant snowman.”
It had been snowing on and off all day, so there was plenty of snow available to build their giant snowman. 

Grandad fetched a large shovel and a small trowel from his shed, and between them, they managed to build a huge snowman. 

Grandad used some pieces of coal from the shed for its eyes and coat buttons, whilst Tim used a carrot from the kitchen for its nose.
“We're almost there Tim, go inside again and fetch me an old hat and scarf from the coat stand in the hallway, we must give our snowman some clothes, or he might freeze!” Joked Grandad.
Tim did as instructed and brought out an old hat and a scarf from the many that were hanging from the stand in the hallway.
“Perfect, now our snowman is fully dressed for the occasion.”
“Now Tim, just before we go back inside, I want you to listen to the snow as it's falling and tell me what you can hear.” 

Tim listened for a while, but couldn't hear anything.
“Shall I tell you what I can hear?” His Grandad asked.
“Yes, please, Grandad.”
“I can hear each tiny snowflake as it flutters down from the sky and nestles softly on the ground below. To my left, someone is walking through the freshly laid snow, the crunch, crunch, crunch of the snow underfoot.” 

Tim's Grandad then turned to his right. 

“Over in that direction, I can hear the faint sound of bells ringing from St Bartholomew's as the bell ringers practice for tonight's midnight mass. When I look in the direction of West Medina, I can hear carol singers as they entertain the last minute Christmas shoppers. 

Complete strangers are wishing one another a very merry christmas and a happy new year, and in the background, I can hear the laughter of children as they skate on the open-air ice rink.”
"Wow, you can hear all of that, I can't hear a thing,” said Tim.
“It's not magic this time, Tim. These are the sounds that can only be heard by a blind person; sounds that most sighted people would rarely be able to hear. They are as I imagine them to be. They are The Sounds of Grandad’s Christmas.”
“Wow,” thats fantastic," said Tim.
“Now then, little Tim, let's go back inside and get warm by the fire. We can have our supper, and if you're lucky, we may even have time for a story before your dad gets back.”
“Grandad, tomorrow, when we're at my house, can we play a game of I-spy?”
“Of course, we can Tim, of course, we can.”

THE END