Left right Christmas game: stories to read aloud and print

Mrs Holly LEFT her shopping until the very last minute, as she does every single year. On Christmas Eve she grabbed her list, her purse and her lucky scarf, and LEFT the house in a hurry. “RIGHT,” she said to the dog, “wish me luck.”

At the shop, the shelves were nearly bare. There was one jumper LEFT, two sizes too big, in a shade of green the label called “brave”. “That’s RIGHT for Uncle Frank,” she decided. She turned LEFT at the tinsel, RIGHT at the crackers, and found the very last tin of shortbread hiding behind a reindeer made of tea towels.

By the time she reached the till, the queue stretched ACROSS the whole shop. The man in front of her had forty-two candles and no idea why. The woman behind her had LEFT her wallet in the car. “Go on, I’ll hold your place,” said Mrs Holly, because it was Christmas, and that’s the RIGHT thing to do.

At home she wrapped everything in a great rush: the jumper, the shortbread, a pair of socks with flashing lights and a book about owls. She ran out of tape and used ribbon instead, then ran out of ribbon and used the dog’s birthday bow. Not a scrap of paper was LEFT.

On Christmas morning the family gathered round, and Uncle Frank opened the owl book. “Just RIGHT,” he said, and he meant it. The jumper went to the dog, who looked very brave in it. And Mrs Holly put her feet up and promised herself, as she does every single year, that next year she would start shopping in July. RIGHT after this cup of tea, of course.

Every November, Jess hosts Friendsgiving in a flat with one oven, four chairs and eleven guests. This year she had a plan. “RIGHT,” she said, sticking a list on the fridge. “Nobody brings potato salad.”

Marco arrived first with a turkey so big he had to carry it in sideways, LEFT shoulder first. Priya came RIGHT behind him with three kinds of stuffing and no oven gloves. Sam brought potato salad. “I know,” said Sam. “But it’s a family recipe.” Jess pointed LEFT, to the corner where the other two potato salads were waiting.

Then came the gravy. Ollie had made it the night before and carried it ACROSS town on the bus, holding the jar with both hands. He got off at the RIGHT stop, turned LEFT at the bakery, and walked very slowly the whole way. It was the most careful journey a gravy has ever taken.

At six o’clock the turkey came out. It was golden. It was magnificent. It was, Marco admitted, still slightly frozen in the middle. Back in it went. Everyone ate potato salad while they waited, and agreed that, actually, three kinds was just RIGHT.

At last they sat down: some on chairs, some on cushions, one on the laundry basket. They passed the plates LEFT. They passed the gravy RIGHT. Somebody passed the cranberry sauce ACROSS the table and knocked over a candle, which Priya caught without even looking up.

When the meal was over there was nothing LEFT but crumbs, one lonely sprout and a lot of laughing. “Same time next year?” said Jess. “RIGHT,” said everyone. “But this time, Sam brings the turkey.”

It was New Year’s Eve, and the party at number twelve was in full swing. Somebody had put the music on, somebody else had turned it RIGHT up, and the neighbours had given up and come round too.

At a quarter to midnight, Dev realised he had LEFT the sparklers in the car. He ran out of the front door, turned RIGHT, then LEFT, then RIGHT again, because he had forgotten where he parked. By the time he found them he was three streets away, and it had started to snow.

Back at the party, Gran had taken charge of the countdown. She stood on a chair holding a wooden spoon. “Everyone ready? We have five minutes LEFT!” Nobody was ready. Half the guests were looking for their coats and the other half were looking for the snacks.

Dev burst in at one minute to twelve, covered in snow and waving the sparklers. “Did I miss it?” “You’re RIGHT on time,” said Gran. Everyone gathered by the window, which looked out ACROSS the rooftops to where the fireworks would be.

Ten! Nine! Eight! Somebody dropped a party popper. Seven! Six! The dog barked RIGHT on cue. Five! Four! Three! Two! One!

The sky lit up. Dev lit the sparklers. Gran blew a whistle nobody knew she had. They hugged the people on their LEFT and the people on their RIGHT, and then, just to be sure, the people ACROSS the room as well. “Happy New Year!” shouted Gran. “Now, who LEFT a sparkler in the fruit bowl?”

For weeks, the whole family had been planning a surprise party for Nana Rose’s seventieth birthday. The plan was simple. Uncle Ted would take her out for lunch, and everyone else would sneak into her house and hide.

On the big day, the cousins arrived first. They hung balloons on the LEFT side of the room and streamers on the RIGHT, then swapped them over when Auntie Bea said it looked wonky. The cake went on the table, RIGHT in the middle, with seventy candles that were not, strictly speaking, all the same colour.

Then the phone buzzed. It was Uncle Ted. “She’s LEFT the restaurant early. She says she has a funny feeling. You have ten minutes!”

Panic! The cousins dived behind the sofa. Auntie Bea squeezed into the cupboard on the LEFT. Grandad stood very still behind the curtain on the RIGHT, with his LEFT foot sticking out underneath. The dog, who had not been told about the plan, sat in the middle of the room wearing a party hat.

The key turned in the lock. Nana Rose stepped inside, looked LEFT, looked RIGHT, and looked straight at Grandad’s foot.

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted, jumping out from every corner. Nana Rose dropped her handbag and laughed until she cried, and soon there wasn’t a dry eye LEFT in the house. She said she had known all along. Nobody believed her.

They lit the candles, which took two boxes of matches, and sang so loudly that the neighbours ACROSS the road joined in. Nana Rose blew out every candle in one go. “RIGHT,” she said. “Who’s cutting the cake? And why is the dog wearing a better hat than me?”

Every December the office holds a party, and every December something goes wrong with the photocopier. This year, Linda from Accounts was determined it would be different.

She LEFT a note on the photocopier that said DO NOT TOUCH. Gary from Sales read it, touched it anyway, and printed four hundred copies of the lunch menu. Linda took a deep breath, put the copies in the recycling bin on the LEFT, and carried on.

At three o’clock the party began. The boss gave a speech that was meant to last two minutes and lasted twenty. Somebody turned the music up RIGHT in the middle of it. The boss took the hint, raised a paper cup of orange juice and said, “RIGHT, everyone, enjoy yourselves!”

The buffet was laid out ACROSS two desks pushed together. There were sausage rolls on the LEFT, vegetable samosas on the RIGHT, and in the middle a bowl of something purple that nobody could identify. Gary tried it. Gary said it was delicious. Gary would not say what it was.

Then came the gift swap. Everyone had brought a small present, and Linda had a plan to make it fair. “Sit in a circle,” she said. “Hold your gift RIGHT in front of you, and listen carefully.”

At that exact moment the photocopier woke up by itself, beeped three times and began printing the lunch menu again. Everyone looked at Gary. Gary looked at the ceiling.

Linda smiled, switched the machine off at the wall and sat back down. “That’s it,” she said. “Next year we’re having the party somewhere with no photocopier. Now pass those presents to the LEFT, and nobody touch anything.”

Pip the penguin wanted to give his best friend Wren a present. But what could a little penguin give?

Pip waddled LEFT, past the big blue iceberg. He found a shiny pebble. “Too small,” he said, and LEFT it there.

He waddled RIGHT, down to the sea. He found a fish. “Too wriggly,” he said, and the fish swam away.

He slid ACROSS the ice on his tummy, all the way to the other side of the bay. There, sitting in the snow, was a red woolly hat that someone had LEFT behind.

“Just RIGHT!” said Pip. He picked it up in his beak and slid all the way back home.

Wren was waiting by the iceberg. “Happy Christmas, Wren!” said Pip, and he gave her the hat. It was much too big. It came RIGHT down over Wren’s eyes and her beak and nearly to her feet.

Wren laughed so much she fell over. “I love it,” she said. “Now I have a hat and a sleeping bag!”

Then Wren gave Pip her present. It was a shiny pebble: the very same one he had LEFT by the iceberg. Pip laughed so much that he fell over too.

And the two friends sat side by side, LEFT wing to RIGHT wing, watching the snow fall.

Six friends rented a cabin in the woods for the weekend. The listing said “cosy”. The listing did not say “at the top of a very steep hill”.

Mia drove and Theo read the map. “Turn LEFT at the old barn,” he said. There was no barn. “Turn RIGHT at the big tree.” There were four thousand trees. In the end they followed a sheep, which turned out to know the way perfectly well.

The cabin had two bedrooms, one bathroom and a wood stove that took three people and a whole newspaper to light. Lou made hot chocolate. Kai made a fire. Nora made a list of who owed what, which everyone agreed was the RIGHT thing to do and nobody wanted to look at.

On Saturday they went for a walk. Halfway up the hill, Theo LEFT the path to take a photo, slipped in the mud and slid gracefully back down on his bottom. “I meant to do that,” he said. Nobody believed him.

That night they played cards by the fire. Lou dealt to the LEFT. Kai insisted that cards should go to the RIGHT. Mia threw a cushion ACROSS the room to settle it, and hit the hot chocolate instead.

On Sunday morning it snowed, and the hill was too slippery to drive down, so they stayed one more night. Nora added it to the list. There was just enough food LEFT: half a loaf, six eggs and a jar of pickles.

When they finally drove home, the sheep was waiting by the gate as if to say goodbye. “Next year?” asked Mia. “Definitely,” said everyone. “RIGHT after we find a cabin at the bottom of a hill.”