And here it is folks - the widely anticipated Christmas blog. I say widely, but even my parents don't read this. I say anticipated, but it's more like something uninvited which sneaks up on you, an eyelash on your cornea.
I realised today that Christmas was almost upon us, as I welcomed the familiar joys of returning home. First spotting someone I never wanted to see again in Morrisons, and towering behind a tower of Kleenex boxes, edging the trolley out like a semi-automatic. Hundreds of people with plastic buckets trying to wrestle the change from my pockets. My mother speaking to strangers about the contents of their baskets for no apparent reason. Running into your Uncle's, son's, friend's, grandmother's next door neighbour and having a long, awkward, sickly conversation about the weather:
"Isn't it cold?"
"It is cold."
"I was just thinking this morning, I don't believe I've ever been this cold."
"Exactly. I mean, can it actually get any colder?"
"No, I don't think it can. It's already too cold, impossibly cold."
"We're used to cold, but not this cold."
"It's like, my head is warm, but my face is always so cold."
"For me it's the feet. My toes are very cold."
"Anyway, I must dash. I'm getting cold standing here."
Well, yeah, thanks for that. Good to know. Just go inside, put on your central heating, and never leave your house again. No one will notice.
Also, all those films are on. Uncle Buck, Shrek, Narnia. I have to stop whatever important task I was about to launch myself upon, like making a sandwich, and watch them. From the beginning, to the end. Then I note it's on again tomorrow, and I think, yes, yes I shall watch it then as well. It's a vicious circle of pain.
Most importantly, my Samsung Galaxy S has arrived and is currently residing in an old ankle sock. Please stop whinging about the blank texts, and the repeated texts and the half finished texts. I no longer understand technology. I am old. Quite frankly the thing baffles me. I have decided to use it as a rather fetching doorstop and will buy a Nokia 3210.
Have a drunken Christmas all, and I will write to you, with equally fascinating stories in the New Year
WriterAtLunch xxxxxxx
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