December 24, 2015
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Vine House
Not a keyboard was stirring, not even a mouse.
IF stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Howell soon would be there.
The IF staff were nestled all snug at their desks,
While visions of kitten-GIFs danced in their heads.
And Tom in his ‘kerchief, and Colin’s flat cap,
Had just settled our brains for a short Christmas nap.
When from outside the office there arose such a clatter,
We sprang from our desks to see what’s the matter.
Away to the window we flew like a flash,
Lyn tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The monitor glare on the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of midday to objects below.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tweeting reindeer.
With a little old driver, so lively and slight,
We knew in a moment it must be St Kate.
More rapid than eagles her coursers they came,
And she whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
“Now Matthew! now, Robert! Now Thea, Bakti!
On, Harry! On, Olly! On, on Jack and Max too!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now post away! Tweet away! Blog away all!”
As Snapchats before the wild hurricane fly,
When they tweet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So pinned to the house-top the tweeters they flew,
With the sleigh full of content, and St Howell too.
And then, in a clicking, we read in a tweet
The prancing and pawing of their little feet.
As we drew in our heads, and turning around,
Down the chimney St Howell came with a bound.
She was dressed all in fur, from head to her hike,
And clothes were all tarnished with retweets and likes.
A bundle of apps she had flung round her neck,
And looked like a guru, presenting a deck.
Her eyes – how they twinkled, her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry.
Her cute little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the cuffs of her coat were as white as the snow.
The shape of a phone she held tight in her hand,
And a selfie prepared, she posed where to stand
A broad, happy face and a knack for de-friending,
A smile so wide, it should be trending!
She was cheeky with glee, a right jolly old elfie,
And we laughed when we saw her, in spite of the selfie!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.
She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And filled all the inboxes, then turned with a jerk.
And laying her finger aside of her nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney she rose!
She sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a shout,
And away they all soared like her score on Klout.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she drove out insight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”