The magic of Christmas

I, as some may know, am the son of the son of a magician. I remember my grandfather would never see us go without- simply conjuring something from beneath a large handkerchief or producing a new shiny coin from behind your ear when required for a trip to the cinema or an impromtu request for confectionary. Christmas was an extravagant affair, a time of plenty; my grandfather would stand at the head of the dinner table and with a tap of his wand produce a Christmas feast from his cornucopian top hat. Brussel sprouts would leap in a green arc from the topper, rolling onto the respective plates, next the carrots would march in sombre procession from the hat and along the table past the hungry guests; eventually lying themselves carefully down beside the sprouts- all the other vegetables would quickly follow, sometimes jostling on the plates till they lay in rank awaiting their leader. Their leader was of course ‘the turkey’ and it’s magical manifestation required an especially extravagant and complicated series of strokes from my grandfathers wand, combined with some whispered secret magic words. His brow would furrow, the lights dim and the hat would start to tremble; this was quickly followed by a volcanic swelling at the hats base. my father in panic, shouts ‘she’s gonna blow’ and several guests take refuge beneath the table. My grandfather, never losing his composure; like the conductor of an orchestra he would tease the turkey from the turgid topper his hands magically sweeping the air, wave after wave; suddenly with a loud ‘pop’ the already cooked and succulent turkey is torpedoed from the hat; it circles the room several times swooping dangerously close to the terrified guests. With a snap of his fingers the bird halts in mid air over the center of the dinner table and under the control of some invisible magic beam emanating from my grandfathers undulating fingers it is coxed down slowly onto the carving platter to rapturous applause from the entire family.