Sunday, 25 November 2012

It's beginning to feel a lot like That-Time-of-Year-That-Shall-Not-be-Named...

I have great pleasure in reporting that it's exactly four weeks until the big day. You know, the C word. And? I. Am. Excited.

Yes, yes, I know, technically it's still only November. But, did I mention, it's only four weeks away?

My fingers are positively itching to fire up my iTunes and break out Chris Rhea, Andy Williams, Wham, and, er,   whisper it, Cliff Richard. Ahem.

However, I'm trying  to be good (and boy, is it a challenge) and hold off until the 1st of December. For that, dear readers, is the all-important date when it becomes socially acceptable to openly celebrate the season.

Until then, early adopters of the festive spirit are widely vilified and we are left with little choice but to conceal our 'heretic' ways, lest we get pelted with rotten mince pies or water-boarded with the dregs of last year's mulled wine.

You think I'm kidding? You try blasting out a bit of "All I want for Christmas" and see where that gets you. Removed from several Christmas card lists and widespread condemnation, that's where. Oh, sure, it's alright for the retail world to get their Christmas on early- in October, these days, it would seem. I'm just waiting for the inevitable: when the decorations go up the day after Mid-Summer's Eve, mark my words it'll happen- but woe betide any mere mortal who has the same idea.

Anyway, I digress...

Today? It really felt like Christmas was in the air. The Red Cups were in Starbucks, the obligatory tawdry decorations were strung up overheard, and Johnny Mathis was crooning over the sound system.


Just six more tantalising days until I can come out of the Christmas closest. Sequinned Santa hat and all...


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