Are we really into December already? Two chocolate Advent calenders say that we are, both with the first window vandalised before breakfast and number 2 has been meddled with if I'm not very much mistaken. Another sign is that I posted my first Christmas card today. (It has a long way to go.) People are talking about what they've bought, what they haven't bought, some have finished shopping, some are all wrapped! ( What's that all about?) And some have yet to begin the dreaded trail of tears between now and the 24th.
I love this time of year and I hate it too. I hate the commercialism, the way everything becomes a 'Luxury' item and you find yourself seriously contemplating that pack of bath oils for aunt-, when you know full well that if you were in your right mind, the idea would never have entered your head. The frenzied look on peoples faces as the month progresses, Christmas cards to buy, write and then send will well meaning messages to people you will not hear from again until the next Yuletide season.
The queue on the counter at work is to the door and beyond, patience is thin on both sides of the desk and Gift Vouchers are the name of the game. It still never ceases to amaze me how a perfect stranger expects you to know what kind of production Uncle Albert would like to see because,
"He's got everything he needs and we thought he would enjoy a trip to the Theatre."
I'm sure Uncle Albert would but one persons idea of a good night out is not necessarily someone else's. I mean are we talking Lady Boys of Bangkok, or something a little more conservative?
I did the grocery shopping this morning with our youngest sitting up front in the trolley. There was 25% of all nightwear and she was begging to have a look at some Upsy Daisey slippers which they just happened to have in her size. What do you do? Put them in the trolley with elaborate explanations as to why she cannot have them now as they need to go off to Santa so that he can sprinkle them with magical fairy dust. It works for me.
And actually it does, because by the time I had finished embellishing the tale of Christmas, the North Pole and Santa being very busy at this time of year with his elves, I began to believe it all over again myself. I saw Christmas through the glassy, innocent eyes of a child, filled with wonder and enthusiasm for decorations, the nursery Nativity, ( she's a Shepherd,) Carols, noisy dancing snowmen at £10 each... how much!; and I knew that this year, just like all the other years, I too will be looking up into the heavens just in case the sound of distant bells can be heard to herald the arrival of the one we are all waiting for and maybe Santa will put in an appearance too.