Lyceum Christmas Tale #4: Tiny Tim, by Robert Softley Gale

Garry Robson in Tiny Tim PIC: Mihaela Bodlovic

Let me tell you a true tale of Tiny Tim

You might think his life was tough and his future grim

But that not the story we’re going to tell

He actually did for himself pretty damn well

Don’t worry – I'm not going to rhyme this whole story – that would just get more than a little bit boring-y. Sorry!

So we’ve all heard of ‘A Christmas Carol’ – the story of the miserly old Scrooge who thought the festive season was all ‘bah humbug’ and who wouldn’t give his hard-working employee Bob Cratchit anything but the bare minimum of time off for Christmas. Bob had a big family who he, of course, wanted to spend Christmas with – we all love spending Christmas with our families and friends, don’t we? Bob Cratchit had six children – lots of mouths to feed, which can be tricky to do at Christmas when your boss is mean.

One of Bob’s kids was called Tim – Tiny Tim they called him. Why was he tiny? Well, he didn’t keep well and used a crutch to help him walk around. We never really know what Tiny Tim’s illness was but we do know that in the version of the future where Scrooge doesn’t change his mean ways, Tim dies because his family haven’t been able to feed him properly or buy the medicines that he needs. Tiny Tim’s life is a pretty sad one – he hasn’t got a lot to look forward to. But I’ve got a question – what if Tim were alive today? What if, instead of being the small poor boy who was fragile and seen as the runt of his family, he actually knew a thing or two, or was at least open to learning some lessons. What if…

Garry Robson in Tiny Tim by Robert Softley Gale PIC: Aly Wight

So it’s the beginning of December and the year is 20 twentysomething. Christmas music has been playing everywhere for four weeks already and we’re not even close to ‘the big day’. Everyone is sick to death of hearing the ‘C’ word and no one in the Tynee family is feeling in the festive spirit, except for Tim, the dad. Tim loves Christmas – he always has – he loves the time you get to spend with your friends and family – he loves the parties and the dancing and, of course, the occasional drink or two.

Tim’s got two kids – Russell Tynee, who’s 12 and a bit of a geek, and Kirsty Tynee, who’s 14 and spends all her time hanging about with her friends at the shops. Russell and Kirsty don’t really get excited about Christmas anymore – they’re too cool for that sort of thing. If he was being completely honest, Russell would admit to still enjoying it – but he’d never say this in front of his friends. Tim brings up Russell and Kirsty by himself – and they’re a happy family living right here in Edinburgh.

Tim does the same thing every year at the beginning of December – he goes out looking for the biggest Christmas tree that he can find and decorates it with loads of baubles and lights and tinsel. The thing is so big that when he turns it on you can see the light in his home in Leith from the top of Arthur’s Seat. His philosophy is bigger is better – and brighter is even better still. The one thing that I haven’t told you about this Tim yet is that he also walks with a stick – he’s been disabled since he was really young. Tim can drive and has a job and is raising his family – so being disabled hasn’t stopped him from doing things – but it does make it pretty difficult to lift massive Christmas trees, to wrap lights around them and to get a star on to the very top of them.

Usually, when it comes time to get the tree each December he asks his neighbour – Frank – to give him a hand. Frank’s pretty strong and can just chuck an eight-foot tree over his shoulder to carry it out to Tim’s car and then in to his house. Each year, after helping Tim out with the tree, the two guys would go to their local pub – ‘The Auld Miser’ – where Tim would buy Frank a drink or two to say thanks. Tim always found it hard asking people for help – he’s a really independent guy and didn’t want to bother other people. He also didn’t like being seen as needy – he had kids to raise and he wanted them to look up to him and the dad who could do anything. But things were different with Frank because their arrangement felt like a fair exchange – a couple of pints for a helping hand with a heavy Christmas tree.

Alas, we’re in the year twenty-twentysomething, and because there’s a global virus going round, people have to stay out of each other’s homes. A lot of people complain about these rules because they get in the way of them going out at the weekend or going on holiday, but the major affect that they have on Tim – and on other people who, like him, relay on their friends and neighbours for a helping hand – is that they are just that bit more reluctant to ask for help. Nobody wants to put anyone else in danger so they keep to themselves and try not to bother folk. For people like Tim this makes life a lot more difficult than it used to be – he just has to muddle by doing what he can by himself. It’s all less than ideal.

So we’re at the start of December in twenty-twentysomething and Tim is sat at home wondering how he is going to get his Christmas tree in to the house and decorated. He’s sitting there – feeling rather glum and defeated by everything – when in walk Russell and Kirsty on their way home from school.

“Hey kids – how did your day go? Anything exciting happen?”

“Fine.” “No – never does” came the monotone responses.

The three of them sat there watching the news for half an hour or so. Tim starts to cook them dinner – fish and chips (well, sweet potato fries) – which has always been a favourite meal for the three of them. They’re just starting to chow down when Kirsty pipes up with a question. “When are we getting our tree this year, Dad? I mean, not that I'm that bothered about it or anything.”

“I…I don’t really know what to tell you both. You know that Frank helps me get the tree every year but this year – with everything going on – I just don’t think I can ask him to come in to the house.”

Russell jumps in with “But I thought people were still allowed to help out with care and stuff like that?”

“Yeh – they are – but I just feel awkward about asking him to…I don’t want to put him in a difficult situation”

The three members of the Tynee family sat there in silence for a while – they all understood what their dad meant and they knew asking Frank to come in to their house wasn’t a fair thing to do.

“Don’t worry Dad – it’s really not that important anyway. We’re too old for Christmas trees.”

When Kirsty said this Tim felt completely destroyed – he really wanted to keep the magic of Christmas alive for his kids for as long as he possibly could. Both Russell and Kirsty could see the utter disappointment on their dad’s face.

“We…we could all do it?” suggested Russell.

“No – no – I can’t have you guys doing that. The tree’s too heavy and it’s not fair for me to ask…”

“But dad, we could/”

“it’s too dangerous. What if it felt and you hurt yourself? What if the neighbours saw my kids having to do the thing that I should be doing?!”

“But/”

“No – just no!”

Tim stormed off – he wasn’t angry at Kirsty or Russell but he was embarrassed. He was ashamed that he couldn’t do this one thing for his kids – that he couldn’t keep this Christmas tradition going because he needed more help than someone else who could walk more easily would. He was frustrated at everything in the world right now but most of all he was frustrated at himself. He lay in bed that night tossing and turning – not know what to do or how to fix the situation.

THE AUTHOR

Robert Softley Gale writes…

"I was incredibly thrilled to be invited by The Lyceum to write one of their short Christmas stories. The Lyceum's Christmas show is a national treasure so to be given the opportunity to contribute to their offer this year - when 'traditional shows' can't be staged - is a huge honour. I hope I can share a bit of magic with the viewers - and who doesn't love a great big Christmas tree?"

*To sign up to receive The Lyceum's eight free Christmas tales, or to buy tickets for the four live streamed stories, please visit www.lyceum.org.uk or contact the box office for more information on [email protected]. This production has been made possible by Creative Scotland's Performing Arts Venues Relief Fund.