{"id":2583,"date":"2025-12-21T19:04:08","date_gmt":"2025-12-21T19:04:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=2583"},"modified":"2025-12-21T19:04:12","modified_gmt":"2025-12-21T19:04:12","slug":"illumination","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/illumination\/2583\/","title":{"rendered":"Illumination"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Sorcha was thinking of her \u2018A\u2019 level exams in the summer. She really<\/em> wanted to go to university; find herself. She stirred the gravy as her mother moved around the kitchen, busy. Last night Mum had spent an age on the food, this morning longer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What do you think?\u2019 her mother eventually said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Are we done?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes, I\u2019ll tell your dad we\u2019re ready to eat.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

A corpulent bird was on the table, beads of fat on it glistening. Every year this ritual, Mum exhausted, Dad in his armchair sipping stout, Mum saying, \u2018He needs a break. Working on the buildings is hard. I want him to enjoy his Christmas, I do.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sorcha supposed that was the reason for the ritual: atonement paid to he who provides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now Dad was raising his voice: \u2018It\u2019ll only take a minute, sure. Just let me do it, woman, and stop your whist.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\u2019d decided to try and fix the lights on the tree now<\/em> – and so what if the food went cold? Another Christmas watching her mother burying her identity to please others. In the afternoon her snotty, much older sister, Angela, would turn up with her dim husband, and his parents. Angela would blank Sorcha because she presumed herself superior. As if owning a semi in St Mellons and having no academic qualifications made her a goddess. Angela would also ignore her father and belittle her mother, who she thought a footstall. Her mother was bottom of the pile at Christmas and she, Sorcha, was just a notch above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Fecking cheap lights, Masie. Why didn\u2019t you get dear ones?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Be careful with them wires, Liam.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Stand by that bloody socket, woman, and do as I tell you. Not yet! Something\u2019s short-circuiting this poxy flex. Try it now so.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mother turned on the socket. Nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Not a peep of light out of the bastards! Jeeze, fecking Christmas, always the same.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Come and have your dinner, Liam.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Cheap bastarding lights.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\/<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Are you putting the Queen on?\u2019 Ernie, Angela\u2019s father-in-law, was saying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Not in this house.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018A socialist house is it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Socialism my arse!\u2019 Dad replied. \u2018I\u2019m not taken in by all that knee-bending crap. We\u2019re watching the film. Masie put that Yank movie on.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018She\u2019s my queen, whether she\u2019s yours or not.\u2019 Ernie\u2019s face was red with alcohol and venom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Ah now, the poor working class gobaloons in this country kowtowing to their betters. Well, you can stick that, pal!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sorcha saw Angela tutting at her father\u2019s rudeness, and a smile of embarrassment wavering on her mother\u2019s face. Every Christmas the same! Oh she really hoped she got grades good enough for university. She badly wanted to leave home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just as the sullen silence in the room had become unbearable, the lights on the tree flickered on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her father, sipping his stout, muttered, \u2018A Christmas miracle!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Not cheap!\u2019 she whispered to Mum, then thought: defiance? Insight? Am I starting to grow up? The lights shone brightly now. She felt momentarily hopeful.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sorcha was thinking of her \u2018A\u2019 level exams in the summer. She really wanted to go to university; find herself. She stirred the gravy as her mother moved around the kitchen, busy. Last night Mum had spent an age on the food, this morning longer. \u2018What do you think?\u2019 her mother eventually said. \u2018Are we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1490,1773],"tags":[1692,102,541,124,8,7,20,1779,780,110,816,14,1778,11,72],"class_list":["post-2583","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1490","category-dec-2025-tis-the-season","tag-angela","tag-christmas","tag-dad","tag-do","tag-he","tag-her","tag-his","tag-lights","tag-mother","tag-mum","tag-now","tag-she","tag-sorcha","tag-was","tag-your"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-FF","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2583","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2583"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2583\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2584,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2583\/revisions\/2584"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2583"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2583"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2583"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}