It was a chilly December morning, with the first frost creeping across the rooftops, and one of the grotesques on Magdalen College woke up hungry. The smell of frying bacon drifted up from the college kitchens, and she saw someone on the street below walk by eating a croissant.
Neither of those things seemed quite right. The grotesque looked along the road towards Carfax, remembering how the Christmas lights had shone through the night. "Christmas dinner," she said to herself. "That sounds about right."
The first and most important part of Christmas dinner, the grotesque thought, was the turkey. Spreading her wings out for balance, she climbed up onto the college roof. She skittered across the tiles, bunched her legs under her, and took a flying leap across the road to the next row of buildings.
People looked up at the noise, and the tiles under her granite feet splintered and cracked, sending shards tumbling down to the street below. But the grotesque was used to hiding in plain sight. She froze, still as a stone, until people shrugged and went on with their mornings.
Moving more carefully, the grotesque climbed and crawled until she reached the roof above the Covered Market. She squeezed through a gap, and went down the wall like a spider. Hiding in shadows and underneath display tables, she made her way to the butcher's.
The butcher was already hard at work carving up a giant joint of pork. The grotesque watched, thinking hard. There was no way she'd be able to take an entire turkey without being noticed. Unless...
With her sharp stone claws, the grotesque chipped at the tiles that covered the floor, until she had a chunk of broken tile in her hand. Then, as hard as she could, she threw it at one of the pheasants that hung from the butcher's window.
Feathers exploded out from the pheasant as it shot off its hook, making one last flight across the market. With a shout of alarm, the butcher dropped his knife and chased after it. In a flash, the grotesque grabbed a turkey and ran, going up the nearest wall like a monkey and landing safely on the roof. She stashed the turkey behind the nearest chimney, ready to pick up later, and smiled.
"One down," she said.
*
"What's next?" the grotesque said to herself. "Vegetables and potatoes, it has to be."
She could have got them from the Covered Market, but she didn't want to spend too much time in any one place - the longer she was on the ground, the more likely it was that she'd be spotted. Instead, she set off across the rooftops, heading towards Gloucester Green.
The market stalls had sprung up overnight, and now the place was bustling with shoppers, buying fruit and vegetables, bread and cakes, sausages and bacon, or hanging around the food stalls where paella and curries and pierogies were cooking.
The grotesque could see a stall covered with fruits and vegetables, all of them fat and healthy and delicious-looking. There were potatoes, parsnips and carrots, and a huge mound of Brussels sprouts - exactly what she needed.
But how was she going to get there? There was too much open space between her and the market stalls, and too many people. If she ran across the square, she'd definitely be seen.
Thinking and planning, the grotesque watched the people below. Then, suddenly, she had an idea.
An old woman was walking across the square, pushing a wheel-along bag in front of her. She stopped and leaned down, reaching to do up her shoelace.
The grotesque took her chance. Tucking her wings flat on her back, she jumped.
She plummeted down from the rooftop, landing in the bag with a thump, seconds before the old woman straightened up and began to push her bag forwards again.
The grotesque waited until they were as close as possible to the stall that she'd seen. Then she drew one of her claws along the fabric of the bag, slicing it open, and dropped the old woman's purse out of the gap.
"Oh, for goodness' sake!" the old woman cried. The bag stopped moving, and through the gap, the grotesque saw the woman bend down to pick her purse up. Quickly, she scrambled out of the top of the bag and hid under the stall.
The market was busy, and the stallholder had so many customers that it was easy for the grotesque to reach up and pull down a couple of potatoes here, a few parsnips and carrots there. When she had a good haul, she started looking around for her way out.
There! A few feet away, there was a delivery bike leaning against the wall. The cyclist was sitting on a nearby bench, drinking a cup of coffee. This was the best chance she was going to get.
She gathered up the vegetables in her arms and waited for a gap in the crowd, ready to run.
But she'd taken too much. One of the sprouts fell, bouncing on the ground and rolling across to hit the side of the stallholder's foot.
"What the...?" The stallholder looked down, nudging the sprout. She began to bend down, ready to look under the table.
The grotesque made a run for it. She sprinted across the marketplace, ducking into a roll that brought her up beside the bike, and hopped up into the delivery box attached to the back. A second after she dropped the lid down, she heard the cyclist's footsteps, and felt the bike move as it was wheeled away from the wall. There was a wobble, and then the bike began to move forwards, getting faster and faster.
The grotesque chuckled and hugged the vegetables close to herself. "Two down," she said.
*
It was a bumpy journey in the delivery box, and, more than once, the grotesque wondered how she was going to get home. But she decided that she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. Right now, her main concern was - what else did she need for her Christmas dinner?
The bike rattled along the road, swerving around corners. The grotesque peered out of the top of the box, and saw that they were approaching Magdalen Bridge. Great! Now, if she could just jump out here...
But the bike didn't slow down. The rider sped over the bridge and shot towards East Oxford, curving around the roundabout and heading up Iffley Road. The grotesque was jostled around inside the box, the potatoes and carrots bouncing against the sides, and a few stray sprouts escaping to roll along the street.
Eventually, the bike came to a stop. The grotesque peeked out of the box, and saw a red-brick town house. The door was open, and the smell of baking was wafting through the air.
"Of course!" The grotesque grinned to herself. No Christmas dinner would be complete without mince pies.
The cyclist locked the bike, and disappeared inside. The grotesque took a look up and down the street, and then made a run for the door.
Inside the building, the smells were even richer - as well as cake, the grotesque could smell sizzling bacon and freshly-made toast. The place was busy, with people chattering as they ate breakfast or bought cakes.
Right in front of her, she could see a plate of mince pies.
The grotesque crept forwards. She stretched up towards the plate. She was so close...
"What is THAT?!"
The grotesque froze. Every eye in the place was on her. One man had stopped dead in the middle of eating, baked beans spilling out of his mouth as he stared at her.
"Er...Merry Christmas," said the grotesque.
Then she grabbed the plate and ran.
*
The grotesque shot out of the door of the bakery, mince pies scattering behind her. She looked around desperately for an escape.
Her eyes fell on the delivery bike.
One swipe of her stone claws was enough to dismantle the bike lock. The grotesque threw the remaining mince pies into the delivery box, leapt into the saddle, and kicked away from the curb.
Riding a bike wasn't easy when you had short, stubby legs, or when you were made of stone, or when cars swerved and honked around you, the drivers staring at you in disbelief. The grotesque wobbled, nearly falling off more than once. A van almost crashed into her as she took the roundabout, and a bus driver leaned on his horn as she shot over the bridge.
Nearly home! Nearly home! the grotesque thought, as Magdalen College tower loomed above her. She took a hard right, making another cyclist swerve wildly, and skidded across the pavement outside the college. In a flash, she'd grabbed the box and was scrambling up the wall.
Safely back on the roof, she stashed the box of vegetables and rather battered mince pies behind one of the gargoyles (who gave her a bewildered look as she passed), and nipped back over to the roof of the Covered Market to pick up the turkey.
Back on the roof of Magdalen College, the grotesque gathered her haul together and looked down at it appreciatively. A trip down to the kitchen that night to cook it, and her dinner would be ready.
"Merry Christmas to me," she said with a smile.
Giving something back
For those who want to spread their Christmas cheer a little further, here's our charitable suggestion of the day:
Welcome to Daily Info’s 2023 Advent Calendar – 24 days of festive tips, free activities & local shopping suggestions!
This year's calendar offers a mix of Christmas suggestions, taking in traditions in Oxford and the wider area, and free activities & events in the build up to the big day.
