A Christmas Renovacy

A Christmas Renovacy Noel Forester sat by the fire, in the house that had once belonged to his grandparents, and gazed into the flames, seeing winters passed now, long-ago Christmasses… He’d lit a candle, placed a couple of pots of ivy under the pictures of his children, cut in paper at the fair one year long ago. And the next year…war had swept across his country, across the continent, taken his wife and his children in its relentless tide. Time smoothes the raw edges of grief. After the war, Noel had gone to his grandparents’ house near the small village on the high alm. The villagers had taken the bridge down when the war began, sealed themselves off from any invaders, though the village wasn’t on the road to anywhere. But Noel knew the hidden path through the mountains, came there and found in the green silence of the forests the healing that his heart needed. And he was still there, an old man now. And now, another war – the cease-fire declared only two days ago. Just in time for Christmas, people said. Peace in time for Christmas. And next year they’d rebuild the bridge again. Noel stood up and moved closer to the blaze, warming his hands, shivering a little at the thought of what had probably gone on outside this high and sheltered valley. Christmas Eve. His grandparents had always laid an extra place at the table – “For the Christ-child. You never know how he will come.” And they’d hung a lantern outside the door as well, with enough oil in it to burn all night.
“To guide any travellers to shelter. There was a young couple once, seeking shelter on Christmas Eve.”
Moved by the memory, he filled a lamp, went outside and hung it up. He’d dozed off by the fire, when the knocking awoke him, confusing him into thinking it was still part of his dreams. But then he heard it again. He got up, creaking and aching a little in his joints and went to the door. Standing there, haloed in the light from his lantern, were children. Children and a nearly frozen young girl. For a moment he gazed, speechless, and then opened the door wider, urging them to come in out of the cold. “We’d found a barn,” the young girl said. “And then we saw your light. And we thought it was worth a try…we could go back to the barn, there was some hay there, but we had no food. I’m Holly.” She paused, obviously near exhaustion. How far had they come? he asked.
“A long way now.” “Robin’s grandmother came from here, she’d told Robin about the path through the mountains. So we decided to try and find it, after…” Her voice faltered.
“They came through our village,” Robin said, tonelessly. “Holly and I, we’d gone into the forest to pick wild strawberries together for my grandmother to make jam. We saw the fires, we hid in the forest overnight. The next day – the village was gone and everyone in it was dead. So we headed for the mountains.” Holly picked up the tale again.
“We found Felix by the side of the road. He was an orphan anyway, and he wasn’t sorry to leave the farmer he’d been apprenticed to. I don’t think the farmer was a very nice man!”
Felix nodded shyly.
“And then we met Martina, and she looked after us. We found a charcoal burner’s hut and Felix fished and we all hunted for food, and it was all right for a few months. Then Martina fell ill, and Robin spotted soldiers on the move, and we had to run for it. And Martina died.” “But we promised her we’d look after her children.” Holly’s voice was full of defiance and determination. “She took care of us – we’d take care of Hope and Joy.” They were all watching Hope, making sure she didn’t go any closer to the fire.
Noel turned his head and could see Joy, rocking happily and singing to herself.
“Let’s get you all fed,” he said. “Though I’m not much of a cook…it’ll have to be soup.” One extra place at the table wouldn’t have been enough, Noel thought. And he’d better get the cot bedding aired before the fire, see what else he could find in the loft. They’d be warm enough up there: the chimney heated the room. The children could stay for as long as they wanted.

After all they’ve been through, the children have some negative traits! But you can change these when they’ve got enough points for the Change Traits lifetime reward. Other than that, all the normal rules apply.
Download the house and family here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9272112

Happy Christmas!

A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 “Do you know, my little kittiekins, I think this is all getting a bit too much for me. You do make a lot of mess, my sweethearts. I wish I could train you to be better behaved.” “And it’s not as easy as it was to get down here and clean out your litter boxes.” “Oh, Pickles, I don’t want you to scratch their chess table.” “Now, you know that’s naughty, my little poppet cat…”
“You don’t know it’s naughty, do you? Well, I’m going to have to tell you off. It’s for your own good. Bad cat!” “And what are you doing in there? That’s not where a little cat should be. And have you dropped a toy down there?” That lovely young man came and fixed my toilet for me – that naughty little kittycat had dropped lots of toys down it! And blocked it up completely. I don’t know what I’d do without him upstairs, helping me out. Or that nice girl next door – I always feel so much happier when we’ve had a cup of tea and a chat. She really cheers me up. And they both bathed my little friends when their fur was all full of fleas and made them into nice clean little darlings again. “Ow! Don’t attack me! That’s not kind of you. A sweet little puss-cat shouldn’t do that to his mummykins!” “No, Maria! You don’t hiss and snarl at other cats. That’s not nice. Be a kind kitty.”
You know, I think my little darlings are getting better behaved. I shall go on hardening my heart and scolding them when they are naughty. And I shall tell Mr Blue and Miss Grey that they can do the same if the cats are bothering them – only please scold them gently. I saw Mr Blue and Miss Gray coming home from an evening out together – I was just making sure all my little kitties were safely inside for the night.
They didn’t see me – they only had eyes for each other, and I didn’t want to interrupt their moment together. It would be so nice if they fell in love…and got married…and had babies… And then – oh dear – I don’t know what to do! It’s so dreadful…
I went out for a cup of tea at this lovely little café where they make tea beautifully, and have the nicest Darjeeling in stock. And after I’d finished it, I sat outside for a while longer – the evenings are nice and mild now, and the spring air smells lovely – and thinking how nice it would be if they did fall in love – and got married – and had babies – and then maybe I could be a sort of grandmother to them. And then I heard voices from the terrace below. They sounded like young women – and I’m sure they didn’t know I was upstairs – but they were talking about pets, and having them, and what sort to have. “Cats? They’re okay, but not if there’s a baby around! They will get into the cot or the buggy and sleep on the baby. And they can smother them.” “Do you think that’s where the old wives’ tale about a cat sucking a baby’s breath comes from?” And suddenly I realised – my little kitty-cats: really, they’re a bit of a menace aren’t they? Living in this tiny house now, I keep noticing how badly behaved they are, what a nuisance they are. And I had to move out because they infested my old home.
That lovely young couple? They’re very nice about the cats, but they’ll move somewhere else to start their family if they do get married.
What am I going to do?

A Nice Quiet Life. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 “That’s like, amazing! Like, congratulations, Lady. Can I read it sometime?”
I’d invited old Paint Sample down to see what had arrived in the post that morning. Namely my book, Daydreamer by R. Grey.
“That copy’s for you. It’s a gift.”
“Wow. Like, that’s cool. Will you sign it for me?”
“I already have.” He picked it up and looked inside - and found the dedication page. There, neatly printed for everyone who read the book to see: To Ocean Blue, who encouraged me to find my dreams again. And underneath I’d signed it also. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at a total loss for words before. It even wiped the grin off his face with sheer surprise.
“Man. Like, man, that’s heavy. I really did that for you?” “You did. How about I take you out for a meal one evening to celebrate? Plus, we can talk properly away from here.”
“I’m cool with that.” I woke up to a flood! Ocean came down while I was fixing the tap and started mopping up for me without being asked. Actually (as Teresa-from-the-Town-Hall would say) he’s pretty okay really.
“One of those cats has got fleas now,” he said as he mopped. “Like, soon we’ll all be hopping with them. The other cats will be, for sure.”
I shuddered at the thought.
“What can we do?” It wasn’t that I didn’t like Miss Gatti – she was quite sweet actually, even if she was just a bit dotty. But the cats were another thing altogether! “We need a flea bath for that fleabag,” Ocean said laconically.
We both only have showers. How was this going to be possible? He must have read my face.
“I do have, like, a plan.”
“Really? Can I be part of it too?” Anything that dealt with those cats was good by me.
“Sure. That’s cool by me. But you might want to put on something that, like, really doesn’t matter.”
“Will this do?” I’d bought the tee shirt on a Paris work trip – from the airport of course: I hadn’t got out of the office to do any shopping. And then I’d decided it was a bit sad if my only souvenir of Paris was an airport tee shirt – and relegated it to the clothes-that-don’t-matter outfit.
The only other time I’d managed to buy any clothes was when we’d been stuck in Greece, unable to get a flight out because of some volcano erupting in Iceland. And when I’d got back home and looked at its vivid colours, I’d wondered what I’d been thinking about. Sensible old me didn’t wear things like that. “You’ve brought me to the junkyard? You sure know how to show a girl a good time.” Once upon a time I would have been mad at him. Now I was just teasing and we both knew it.
“Yep,” he said unrepentantly. “Man, you’d be amazed at what you can find here!” And he flipped up the lid of the nearest bin to prove it. I was so not going to do that! But he might have a point nevertheless… And, hidden behind an enormous pile of junk, I found what we might have been looking for. Without getting dirty or smelly in the least! “Oh,” he said when he saw it. I kept a gap between us! And I stayed upwind. Then his familiar good humour reasserted itself.
“Hey, like I found some cool stuff anyway. I’ll go bargain for this. Meet you for lunch later on? My treat, this one.” “These cats are a menace.” Old Paint Sample was unusually grave.
“I know. I really like Miss Gatti – but her cats! They’re terrible. And she won’t do anything about them. Apart from let them do what they want. And breed…”
“Well, that bath will, like, deal with the fleas, with some help from us.”
“I’m not surprised her house was declared infested.” I shuddered at the thought. I like clean and tidy!
“Man, I just don’t know…” His voice trailed away. I wasn’t used to him not knowing what to do. He was usually Mr Endless-Optimism. Mr Lady-Why-Do-You-Worry-So-Much? “Right,” I said, as the waitress approached with our food. “We analyse the problem and we make a plan. A multi-pronged one – there’s a lot of sub-problems here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Like, one’s called Muffin, and one’s called Pickles, and one’s called…” “So, practical step one, cleaning up the cats,” I said.
“The bath’s going to, like, arrive tonight. Paolo said he’d drop it off for free on his way home if I’d play for free at his daughter’s birthday party. Antonia’s four this weekend. It’ll be, like, a fancy dress nursery rhyme party.”
“So what are you going to wear?” I asked mischievously, acting like I couldn’t wait to see his costume.
He gave me A Look! You could see the fleas hopping off as the cat got bathed. I hoped they wouldn’t hop on to us. It seemed a bit mean not to give old Paint Sample a bit of moral support, but it took a lot of courage. He was right about the fleas spreading – two of the little monsters were now crawling with them. I’d lost my view again. I’d had to put the blinds back up – not to keep old Paint Sample at bay this time, but Miss Gatti. I was serious about my writing – and I did find here, at home, the best place to do it. The décor was both soothing and inspiring at once. But if Miss Gatti saw me “only playing on my computer”, she’d knock to come in for a chat. So the blinds were up again. Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t like I don’t talk to her at all. But Ocean had told me about how, when she arrived, she’d thought all three containers were her house. And how she’d thought my container was her kitchen and I was the maid cleaning up for her coming! And she still seemed confused about that sometimes. She was having real problems grasping the idea of paying rent!
I’ve had her round for tea and cakes – I do bake quite well, though I say so myself. And it’s quite nice to listen to her stories of when she was young, but not when I’m trying to write. I’ve not been in to her house though, and with all those cats, I don’t think I want to! The cats were all flea-free. And Ocean and I had been secretly trying to train them a bit. I mean, every morning, the newspaper’s shredded before I can even read it.
Tonight, I was taking Ocean out for that promised thank you meal. I’d reached into the wardrobe for my normal going out dress, only to look at it again. Grey. Grey with embroidery, and it was a very nice fabric, but still grey.
Old Paint Sample had opened my eyes in more ways than one. I pulled out the Athens dress. And the earrings. And fished out my seldom-used-now make-up. And did my hair differently. Who knew what he’d be wearing – I wasn’t going to stand out too much in his company! “Wow! Like, man, you look amazing!” I blushed. You couldn’t miss his sincerity.
“You look pretty good too.”
“I thought I’d like, smarten up. I wanted to do you credit. But, lady, you outshine me.” Then he pulled out his hand from behind his back… …and gave me flowers! Beautiful, glowing, velvety roses. “Well, lady,” he said, when I’d put those lovely flowers in some water. “Where are we going tonight?”

The Asylum Chapter 13

Once again, Ariadne sat as a prisoner before them. The seating was less formal, but the atmosphere was more so. Pete was gone – had left Wolvercote House, and was living in a rented flat, waiting for the others to join him.
But she wasn’t sitting with her friends, ready to talk and laugh with them. And this wasn’t Wolvercote House any more. It was Wolvercote Prison, and she was the prisoner. As usual, Amelie took the lead.
“We are the staff of Wolvercote Prison, and we all have things to tell you before you take up residence here. I think I’ll let the prison psychiatrist speak to you first.”
(“We can’t be Ariadne’s friends doing this to her. We have to have a different persona each. And we don’t use her name any more to her, as prison staff. She’s just going to be a number.”) Elise’s eyes were kind and understanding, and her tone was calm, but the message was still a hard one for Ariadne to hear.
“The Wolvercote family had to pay their debts to society, before more innocent people were hurt – in this case it would have been Pete Wainwright, and yourself. In sentencing you, as their heir, for their crimes, we have re-directed Pete’s mind away from thoughts of revenge and into thoughts of justice. When you leave prison, you will be an extremely rich young woman. You will have earned that wealth fairly, by preventing Pete from ending up in prison himself.” “But I didn’t do any of those things!” Ariadne’s little-girl-lost look tore at Elise’s heart, but they all had to go through with this.
“Pete saved all of our lives.” She looked round at the other three. “We’d probably have been dead from thirst before you arrived – but more than that, if he hadn’t insisted on us staying here, we’d none of us be alright. We won’t let his life be ruined – or yours be lost – for Dr Wolvercote has changed him as surely as he changed the rest of us.” Olaf spoke next. “I’m the duty officer, and I’ve planned your timetable for you. You will rise, eat, sleep, exercise at set times each day. The locks on every door are electronic, and programmed to open and close at certain times – the kitchen, for example, is only open at meal times. Your cell door will lock every night, and not open until the 6 am rising bell. You will listen to all announcements over the tannoy system, and comply with them immediately, or suffer loss of privileges.” “And I’m head of security. You are going to be microchipped. Every door you pass through it will be noted – time of entry, time of exit. These will be logged onto the main computer, and all deviations will be noted. There are webcams everywhere, and you will be watched, at any time, by any member of staff. We are looking for your compliance with prison rules, and also ensuring your safety. The prison chaplain would like a few words.” “This won’t be easy,” Jonas said. “And it’s not meant to be. But nor is it meant to be unbearable. You will have to learn how to adapt to your new circumstances, but you will find the strength and resilience in yourself to do that. I do know what I’m talking about.” He paused and then went on.
“You may supplement your diet with anything out of the prison gardens – you have three hours each day scheduled in the gardens, so there will be time for you to grow your own food. An automatic irrigation system has been installed for you.”
This was real. They were going to do this to her. She was crying again, and she felt as though something deep inside her had been frozen and died. Prison hair, prison clothes. They’d micro-chipped her, inserting it under the skin on her back. “Don’t worry,” Elise said, as she injected the local anaesthetic. “I did train as a nurse before I went into psychiatry.” And she had been deft and quick. Then Elise and Jonas had left, to join Pete in his flat.
“You can’t – obviously – spend any of your money while you’re in prison. But as soon as you’re allowed to receive mail, I’ll send you updates on how your investments in Olaf’s company are doing. And also the state of the contingency fund.” “Did we do the right thing?” Jonas asked Elise as they finally walked away from Wolvercote Prison. But they both knew the answer was yes. That building might be holding Ariadne’s body captive, but it also still held Pete’s soul. Prison hair, prison clothes. Olaf and Amelie were her prison guards, no sign of her former friends to be found. She’d been drilled in the rules and regulations until she knew them backwards.
06:00 Rising bell. Bed must be made.
07:00 Kitchen opens, and must be left clean and tidy.
09:00-12:00 Garden duty.
12:30 Kitchen opens.
There were webcams everywhere. Someone would be watching her – and at the start, they’d none of them have much else to do. Jonas had to acquire a new identity before he and Elise could get married. Amelie seemed to think that would be manageable. Prison hair, prison clothes. The timetable played on in her head.
14:30-16:30 Gym time. You will follow the training routine.
17:00-19:00 Library open – Wednesday and Saturday only initially. You will be allowed to borrow one book each time.
19:00 Kitchen opens.
21:00 Return to cell.
22:00 Lights out
. The library and gym are privileges and can be extended for good behaviour or rescinded for bad. They had come for her, were taking her out of here. And into what?
Pete would be watching this, Ariadne knew. This was what he’d wanted.
This was the event the others were hoping would swing his mind back to sanity, break the pattern of thinking that had taken him over after his exposure to Wolvercote’s machine. Prison hair, prison clothes. And that was what she walked into. It was Wolvercote Prison. Up the main stairs to the first floor, and all she could see was rows of cells, gates, bars, harsh strip-lighting. Actually, most of the changes had been cosmetic only – Wolvercote had been built like a prison in the first place. Prison hair, prison clothes. There was now a way through to those secret back stairs from the first floor, and that was where they were taking her. Back up into those attics. “This is your cell. Should your behaviour merit it, the review board might consider moving you to a larger one at a later date.”
All it contained was a bed and a hamper for her dirty clothes. She would be allowed to use the washing machine at the weekend. Prison hair, prison clothes.
“You are now prisoner number 126.”
Prison number.
“Normal routine will begin tomorrow. For today, you will be allowed out of your cell for mealtimes only.” Prison hair, prison clothes. Prison number, prison cell. The door was shut and locked on Ariadne. She heard them walking away, gates closing and locking behind them. Through the little window in the door, she could see the clock on the wall, ticking away the first hour of the next ten years. Prison sentence.