I thought as I'm starting this blog in December my first post should be a festive one.
As I write this there is a big box on the living room floor which holds our second-hand Christmas tree. My friend Kate gave it to us last year as we'd just moved into a new house a couple of months prior and were poorer than poor. Another friend, Jen (and her mum and dad) also donated lots of decorations to the quickly established charity The House Of Kath & James.
We bought fairy lights and put up our first tree. In our first home. On our first Christmas together in it. Very exciting. Tree sat all cosy in the corner of the room spreading festive cheer almost instantly.
At this point too we were in the midst of a treacherous winter - snow outside our door was up to our knees and although my beloved shovelled it daily, by the next morning it was knee-height again. Now don't get me wrong, I bloody LOVE the snow. As I'm constantly told though I'm not really allowed to have an opinion on the White stuff as I'm "not a driver".
Ah I see, as I don't drive I couldn't possible appreciate what its like to travel in the snow - I don't for example freeze my arse off ON A DAILY BASIS waiting for a rust bucket of a bus that's NEVER on time, to then sit for an hour there and back to work on an uncomfortable seat in a bus that usually doesn't have a heater? No of course not. I don't walk long, LONG distances in the vein hope of finding another bus that will take me to my destination after the first 5 have been late/cancelled/not turned up/driven off cliffs.
Yes, fair enough I don't have to go through the dreaded procedure of scraping the frost off the car in the morning, or waiting for the heater to warm up. But I do have to wait upwards of an hour with icicles forming on my nose and eyelashes (not a few of my favourite things) and sit on a freezing bus dressed like an Inuit.
This is one of my gripes about the festive season in general. The country goes into uproar at the slightest hint of a snowflake, people stock up as though preparing for the oncoming end of the world, and start to complain about EVERYTHING. A few examples;
'Where the f**k are the gritters?!' (followed by angry calls to the council)
Where the f**k is the bus?!'
(followed by irate calls to the bus company)
'Why the f**k an I being charged so much for heating?!'
(followed by, you guessed it, furious calls to the gas company).
All of this drains my festive cheer. I love Christmas and therefore love snow, and decorations and being with family and giving gifts to those I love. I hate to see what's meant to be such a happy time turned into yet another excuse to moan, or take time off, or put yourself into debt. The adverts all lead us to believe it's a happy time, we are festooned with images of ex-x-factor contestants driving home for Christmas, excited to see their families faces and devour Iceland prawn balls. (Do prawns even have balls? I genuinely don't know).
Even shopping for presents is a farce, everyone milling around without a clue of what they are there to buy, getting in MY way. Stopping for no apparent reason in the middle of a jam-packed shopping centre to gaze at the sky like a man who's just had his memory wiped. 'What are you doing?' I howl (in my head) 'For the love of God, MOVE!!' Then I'm the one who looks like the nutcase because I'm walking quickly and silently seething behind old ladies (yes I know I'm not helping my case) - if you can't handle the pace get OUT OF MY (the) SHOPPING CENTRE.
Left devastated by my experiences this year I've resolved to do it all online in 2012. Least that way my blood pressure will stay at an acceptable level, and there's less chance I'll become known as The Shopping Centre Killer.
Now I'm going to put my Inuit costume on and go out and make a snow angel then fire up the Christmas tree. Where the f**k did I put those lights..?
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