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‘Oh, yes it is,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies glumly. ‘It’s exactly the time for silly arguments. In our family we were lucky to get through dinner without a reprise of What A Shame Henry Didn’t Go Into Business With Our Ron. Or Why Hasn’t Anyone Taught Those Kids To Use A Knife? That was another favourite.’

‘And the sulks,’ said Ponder Stibbons.

‘Oh, the sulks,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘Not a proper Hogswatch without everyone sitting staring at different walls.’

‘The games were worse,’ said Ponder.

‘Worse than the kids hitting one another with their toys, d’you think? Not a proper Hogswatch afternoon without wheels and bits of broken dolly everywhere and everyone whining. Assault and battery included.’

‘We had a game called Hunt the Slipper,’ said Ponder. ‘Someone hid a slipper. And then we had to find it. And then we had a row.’

‘It’s not really bad,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘I mean, not proper Hogswatch bad, unless everyone’s wearing a paper hat. There’s always that bit, isn’t there, when someone’s horrible great-aunt puts on a paper hat and smirks at everyone because she’s being so bohemian.’

‘I’d forgotten about the paper hats,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. ‘Oh, dear.’

‘And then later on someone’ll suggest a board game,’ said Ponder.

‘That’s right. Where no one exactly remembers all the rules.’

‘Which doesn’t stop someone suggesting that you play for pennies.’

‘And five minutes later there’s two people not speaking to one another for the rest of their lives because of tuppence.’

‘And some horrible little kid—’

‘I know, I know! Some little kid who’s been allowed to stay up wins everyone’s money by being a nasty little cut-throat swot!’

‘Right!’

‘Er …’ said Ponder, who rather suspected that he had been that child.

‘And don’t forget the presents,’ said the Chair of Indefinite Studies, as if reading off some internal list of gloom. ‘How … how full of potential they seem in all that paper, how pregnant with possibilities … and then you open them and basically the wrapping paper was more interesting and you have to say “How thoughtful, that will come in handy.” It’s not better to give than to receive, in my opinion, it’s just less embarrassing.’

‘I’ve worked out,’ said the Senior Wrangler, ‘that over the years I have been a net exporter of Hogswatch presents—’

‘Oh, everyone is,’ said the Chair. ‘You spend a fortune on other people and what you get when all the paper is cleared away is one slipper that’s the wrong colour and a book about earwax.’

Ridcully sat in horrified amazement. He’d always enjoyed Hogswatch, every bit of it. He’d enjoyed seeing ancient relatives, he’d enjoyed the food, he’d been good at games like Chase My Neighbour Up The Passage and Hooray Jolly Tinker. He was always the first to don a paper hat. He felt that paper hats lent a special festive air to the occasion. And he always very carefully read the messages on Hogswatch cards and found time for a few kind thoughts about the sender.

Listening to his wizards was like watching someone kick apart a doll’s house.

‘At least the Hogswatch cracker mottoes are fun …?’ he ventured.

They all turned to look at him, and then turned away again.

‘If you have the sense of humour of a wire coathanger,’ said the Senior Wrangler.

‘Oh dear,’ said Ridcully. ‘Then perhaps there isn’t a Hogfather if all you chaps are sitting around with long faces. He’s not the sort to let people go around being miserable!’

‘Ridcully, he’s just some old winter god,’ said the Senior Wrangler wearily. ‘He’s not the Cheerful Fairy or anything.’

The Lecturer in Recent Runes raised his chin from his hands. ‘What Cheerful Fairy?’

‘Oh, it’s just something my granny used to go on about if it was a wet afternoon and we were getting on her nerves,’ said the Senior Wrangler. ‘She’d say “I’ll call the Cheerful Fairy if you’re …”’ He stopped, looking guilty.

The Archchancellor held a hand to his ear in a theatrical gesture denoting ‘Hush. What was that I heard?’

‘Someone tinkled,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Senior Wrangler.’

‘Oh no,’ the Senior Wrangler moaned. ‘No, no, no!’

They listened for a moment.

‘We might have got away with it,’ said Ponder. ‘I didn’t hear anything …’

‘Yes, but you can just imagine her, can’t you?’ said the Dean. ‘The moment you said it, I had this picture in my mind. She’s going to have a whole bag of word games, for one thing. Or she’ll suggest we go outdoors for our health.’

The wizards shuddered. They weren’t against the outdoors, it was simply their place in it they objected to.

‘Cheerfulness has always got me down,’ said the Dean.

‘Well, if some wretched little ball of cheerfulness turns up I shan’t have it for one,’ said the Senior Wrangler, folding his arms. ‘I’ve put up with monsters and trolls and big green things with teeth, so I’m not sitting still for any kind of—’

‘Hello!! Hello!!’

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Я думала, что уже прожила свою жизнь, но высшие силы решили иначе. И вот я — уже не семидесятилетняя бабушка, а молодая девушка, живущая в другом мире, в котором по небу летают дирижабли и драконы.Как к такому повороту относиться? Еще не решила.Для начала нужно понять, кто я теперь такая, как оказалась в гостинице не самого большого городка и куда направлялась. Наверное, все было бы проще, если бы в этот момент неподалеку не упал самый настоящий пассажирский дракон, а его хозяин с маленьким сыном не оказались ранены и доставлены в ту же гостиницу, в который живу я.Спасая мальчика, я умерла и попала в другой мир в тело молоденькой девушки. А ведь я уже настроилась на тихую старость в кругу детей и внуков. Но теперь придется разбираться с проблемами другого ребенка, чтобы понять, куда пропала его мать и продолжают пропадать все женщины его отца. Может, нужно хватать мальца и бежать без оглядки? Но почему мне кажется, что его отец ни при чем? Или мне просто хочется в это верить?

Катерина Александровна Цвик

Любовное фэнтези, любовно-фантастические романы / Детективная фантастика / Юмористическая фантастика