The true meaning of Christmas

When I was a kid I never understood how Jesus managed to get so much done seeing as he was born at Christmas but then died at Easter (thinking about it, Easter is resurrection time isn't it?). As an adult, I still don't get how come Easter moves. Anyhow, Western decadence means that for most people Christmas is a time to shout at your family and fill your house with crap. This frenzied and illogical behaviour surely suggests that Armageddon is just around the corner. I think that Wizzard's wish of 'Christmas every day' would bring us that much closer to judgement day. I doubt very much you'd find kids willing to start singing and bands beginning to play 24/7, 365 days of the year. More likely would be economic collapse due to excessive borrowing and people never going to work. Turkey shortages would lead to riots outside Bernard Matthews battery farm in Norfolk and rapid deforestation due to demand for Christmas trees would increase levels of CO2 and accelerate global warming to the point where most of the UK would be under water within a couple of years as the ice caps melted. Roy Wood may have considered these possibilities but I have to acknowledge that they don't scan nearly so well and what the hell rhymes with 'excessive borrowing'? And another thing: Santa would need time off for stress due to a massive increase in workload. No doubt he'd have to get Parcelforce to take on some of his deliveries and, as a consequence, stockings would be found limp and empty each morning as countless thousands of posties' sat navs misdirected them from one chimney to the next. Or they just nicked the stuff or threw it away or whatever else it is they do.



Having said all that, I had Christmas dinner yesterday with all the trimmings (except Turkey or the pudding) with best mate and my girl. It was great. Also, I got a Powermonkey. How did I ever get along without one of those?

tidings

It's rare that I receive anything in the post that doesn't make me wince. Like a lot of people I know I pick up mobile phone bills, gas bills and bank statements with little trepidation. The shock that hits me when I open them though -first with a quick double jab to my guts then floors me as 'my gorge riseth'- never lacks novelty, yet I have experienced it a thousand times. That eye widening moment when I read £576 on my phone bill or some similar stupid amount for heating when I never have it on and am hardly here is akin to those moments in my life when I have realised that I have done something very very stupid or bum clenchingly embarrassing. Why I haven't developed a keener sense of impending horror is beyond me. If natural selection processes are surreptitiously filtering out those ill equipped to deal with the lives we lead in the 21st century then I fear I'll be the first to go the way of the neanderthals.

Of course I have had a few pleasant things in the post: letters from my girl; packages with stuff I ordered off e-bay; a pack of stickers and a broken pen from the children with mortal illnesses campaign. You can imagine the lifting of spirits I felt when I received what was obviously a Christmas card yesterday when I got in from work. I savoured the hint of glitter on the envelope; I studied the post mark and wondered who I knew down there; I opened it carefully and appreciated the cartoon donkey on the front. I was a little disappointed when I read the greeting: "From everyone at your Hyundai servicing centre."

I shouldn't be churlish though. I don't do cards myself. It's as much as I can do to sort it for family birthdays. My colleague makes a charity donation equivalent to x number of cards and stamps. If I did that for all my friends it'd cost me nearly 2 quid. If anyone I know is reading this: Happy Christmas OK. In fact, happy Christmas and Eid to everyone. a robin yesterday