A Winter’s Tale
This story is set in the frozen north of Lapland a few years ago and it concerns a little
fellow called Olf. Olf lived in a town where the parents of children were too cold to spend much time on trivial matters like
thinking of names for children so all males in that town were called Olf and all females were called Olfa. And so the tradition
developed of calling people by their distinguishing features so there was Olf the Nose, Olfa the Tall, Olf the Fat and so
on. Our character has a very rosy complexion so he became known as Olf the Red. His colouring was partly due to his outdoor
lifestyle, for he was a Christmas tree farmer, and partly due to the fact that he was permanently angry. Many years of solitude
amongst the trees had not improved his temper nor his manners.
Christmas tree farming has its rewards but it tends to be a seasonal activity so Olf
took the decision that he needed a change of career. His experience of the outdoor life had given him an unsurpassed knowledge
of the weather, especially regarding precipitation, for Christmas trees are particularly susceptible to drought and flood.
Olf had developed the ability to predict whether there would be a shower, rain, hail or snow with astonishing accuracy.
Armed with this skill he applied for a job as a weather forecaster for the local TV
station, Look North Pole, and as he was on his best behaviour that day, he was given the job by the station managers, a couple
called Olf the Bald and Olfa the Elegant. Not many days had passed however before his conduct began to deteriorate in front
of the cameras. At first there were just a few obscenities, then he was occasionally seen wiping his nose on his sleeve. This
behaviour brought in a stream of letters of complaint but there was an equal number of letters of praise from the local Christmas
tree farmers, of whom there were many in that region, thanking the TV station for the amazingly accurate forecasts of rain,
sleet and snow.
The language used by Olf the Red in his weather forecasts became steadily more obscene
and his manners were repulsive. Eventually Olf the Bald and Olfa the Elegant, the station managers, decided that enough was
enough and they sacked him. They appointed a succession of forecasters but none of them could predict the weather like Olf
the Red. The local Christmas tree plantations were wilting and it looked as though there would not be a single tree left in
Lapland for Christmas. A deluge of letters of complaint from Christmas tree farmers forced Olf the Bald and Olfa the Elegant
to reconsider their decision. They felt that although they did not wish to cause offence to some of their viewers they had
a responsibility to the local farmers to provide accurate forecasts of the rain.
“His manners are disgusting” said Olfa the Elegant. “Yes but he can
predict the briefest shower” replied Olf the Bald. “His language is so vulgar” complained Olfa the Elegant.
“Yes my love, but he can tell whether there will be a downpour next month”. Olfa the Elegant was finally persuaded.
“O.K.” she conceded, “I agree to his reinstatement. I have to admit that rude Olf the Red knows rain, dear”
A. Hurrell
