Andi with an i

For audio click here

“You’re such a killjoy you are,” Andi with an i said to me for the umpteenth time that day.

If there is one thing I hate more than Christmas jumpers, it is Christmas jumper evangelists. Those sent from Marks and Spencer or somewhere to make sure everyone in the work place participates in Christmas Jumper day and to name and shame those whose Jumpers didn’t jingle and whose sweaters didn’t sparkle.  

“Why don’t you wear one, it’s only one day, it wouldn’t kill you. Just buy into the spirit of it. A bloody killjoy.”

The irony, of course, was that I am not sure I had killed anyone’s joy. I don’t think that my decision not to wear a festive outfit had had any effect either positive or negative on anyone’s day, I don’t even think it had ruined Andi with an i’s day; she seemed to enjoy berating me.  Yet, her constant carping about my normal attire was certainly killing the little bit of joy that I had expected to get from the office Christmas party day. So who was the killjoy here? By the way don’t get me started on why on earth we had to have a whole day for a Christmas party, with organised entertainment. If there is one that riles me as much as Christmas jumpers, it is organised ‘fun’.

Of course being the Christmas jumper evangelists meant that Andi with an i’s Christmas jumper was more Christmassy and jumpery than anyone else’s. Rudolph’s antlers lit up with fairy lights and if you pressed his red nose, it gave you a tinny burst of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Andi with an I thought this to be hilarious so pressed it every four minutes throughout the day. How she was still alive, I do not know.

With the organised ‘fun’ over it was time to go to the restaurant for the overpriced soggy Christmas meal. Andi with an i led the way, encouraging the whole office to sing God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen despite the fact she obviously didn’t know the words. When they run out of steam, she pressed Rudolph’s nose. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer blared out, the antlers lit up, I heard Andi with an i’s laugh turn into a scream as a car screech to a halt. There was a thud, more screams, silence.

 Andi lay motionless on the road.

 “All of a sudden there were these bright lights,” the driver said. “I was blinded, I couldn’t see, I tried to stop but… I’ve never hit anyone before, never even had a scrape, but there were these bright lights flashing, it blinded me, I just didn’t see her.”

I’d seen her. She’d stepped out into the road without looking, imagining that the Christmas jumper gave her superpower.

Less festive blue lights flashed behind us, but the ambulance would be of no help. Andi with an i  was dead.