On the 9th Day of Christmas...

Salutations, my name is Captain James Windsor.
I have been asked to share a bit of writing that I heard was called a "post". Rather like a newspaper article, I suppose?
That aside, I should probably introduce myself.
I am a retired Army Captain, now a dectective under our Queen Victoria with the police force in London.
You may or may not remember me from a post written a few months ago...
Well now, I suppose I will share a small bit of writing, giving you a glimpse of one of my mornings off work this past December.
Now bear in mind, I myself did not write this scene, as you can tell, because it is written from an author's perspective.
I shan't lie and say that I am particularly satisfied with the way I am portrayed here...I seem rather cross. I would like you to know I'm not like this usually. I blame my mood entirely on the weather.
It was absolutely freezing this past December. I am none-too fond of winter...

Happy Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!”
“A very merry Christmas!”
Captain Windsor scowled darkly from under his pulled-low-hat at the folks who cheerily called out their greetings to each other as he walked down the icy streets of London. “How can folks be so jolly on a morning as cold as this...”
He pulled his coat a bit tighter around his neck as he waited for a horse and buggy to clip-clop by.
A cold breeze stabbed the detective despite his multiple layers of clothing, causing him to shiver violently. “I’m not suited for the cold anymore...”
He carefully but quickly crossed the sleet glazed cobblestone street, and spotted his comrade Henry Cobbs shuffling towards him.
“Cobbs!”
The stout man peeped up at him from behind the thick scarf wrapped around his face. “Oh, good morning sir!”
Windsor clapped his gloved hands together in attempt to warm them. “I’m having my doubts on the goodness of this morning...”
“It is rather cold.”
The detective laughed scornfully. “Cold is too kind of a word!”
Mr. Cobbs’ eyes glittered in amusement. “Where are you off to this frigid morning, detective?”
The Captain huffed. “Oh, I have to go to some gathering of some sort. Ridiculous thing to be doing in the frosty mornings. Why don’t folks host parties in the evenings like they usually do?”
“Well then, I’m happy to say my business isn’t quite so tiresome. I’ve been sent to fetch a ham for supper.” Cobbs patted a brown paper package he held in the crook of his arm. “Mrs. Cobbs was particular that we have ham tonight.”
Windsor cocked his head. “And she sent you to fetch it? What’s wrong with your cook?”
“I have a feeling my wife is doing her Christmas gift wrapping while I’m gone.”
“Why doesn’t she buy her gifts and have them wrapped at the shop?”
Mr. Cobbs chuckled. “She enjoys wrapping her own Christmas presents.”
The detective shook his head incredulously. “Folks and their strange traditions...”
The stocky man smiled, and tipped his hat. “Yes, I’ve never figured out the way to wrap gifts myself, but it brings her pleasure, so I don’t question. I’d best be off. If I don’t see you before then, I wish you a merry Christmas.”
Captain Windsor nodded. “And I to you, Henry.”


Well, now that you probably have a rather sour idea of my character and mood...
I will bid you adieu.
A merry 9th day of Christmas to you.


Thanks, Captain!
Ok! Don't get him wrong; Detective Windsor is a loveable grouch. Dispite his cross and sometimes unpleasent demeanor, he's really a sweet fellow.
Mr. Cobbs and he were pals in the Army together, have remained good friends since, and now work together in the police force.

I hope you enjoyed this tiny snippet.
Until tomorrow!

God bless!

Megan