Skip to main content

A Christmas Monologue

I was almost sick when I saw the Christmas decorations down my parents' local.  Beginning of November it was.  Straight after Halloween.  It was a straight swap: goblin for Santa.  I'm not one of those - you know - those who drone on about things just to fill a silence.  I try to remain open-minded about modern Britain and its hankering for Christmas in early Autumn.  I don't even mind the commercialisation of it all.  If you want to blow your savings on crap, you might as well do it with good intentions.  It all funds the economy.  But it's the by product of a Christmas mindset in November that gets me.  People who wish you Merry Christmas before Advent are as dead to me as the people who take the tabloid's view as the gospel.  Like it was some sort of daily forty pence-a-hit scripture, with a brief respite from The Absolute Truth for a copaloadofthosedave on page 3, because Lucy, 23 is absolutely not a slut, even though her boyfriend sent in the picture she'd already had on Facebook and has become The Misogynists' Woman of the Day.  So yes, there are flaws in modern life, and I'm talking beyond the pair of tits in the paper.  And yes, I may be overreacting when I talk about the time of the year Christmas decorations should go on public display.  But my stance is this: you can do what you like in the privacy of your own home, but telling me it's almost Christmas at the beginning of November is a crime.  It's a crime of perspective.  To quantify the crime, it would lie somewhere between stealing a sweet from the Pic 'n' Mix and fly tipping an old sofa in your neighbour's garden.  And really I'm not even complaining, but there has to be an etiquette when it comes to Christmas, or else you'll just be celebrating the approach to something for a solid four months.  It's not Holocaust-wrong, but it's still wrong.  

I sit here in the comfort of my living room.  I can see through the front window the flashing of green fairy lights from the house across the road.  It's nothing too gaudy, and it's December, after all.  But if I squint hard enough, I'm sure the bulbs will merge into one as it reflects against the curtains, prophetic and Gatsby green.     

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An Expert Analysis of Michael Fassbender's Running Style From the Film 'Shame'

Tom Wiggins: What are your first impressions of Michael Fassbender/Brandon's running style? Paul Whittaker: He's running nice, smooth and relaxed. He seems like he has a good amount of fitness and he is running well within himself in terms of pace.   TW: What improvements could he make to his running style? PW: The main improvement I'd make is his foot plant.  He lands heel first and this causes a 'breaking' effect when travelling forwards.  If he landed on his mid-foot/forefoot, this would be a much better for impact stress and propulsion going forward into the next running stride. TW: Regarding his speed, how many minutes per mile is he running? PW : I would say he is running approx 7-7.30 minutes per mile. TW:   What do you make of his stride lengths?  Is he overstriding/understriding? PW:  The actor is definitely overstriding in this clip.  It would help if his feet landed underneath and below his centre of gravit...
Post a Comment
Read more

Norman MacCaig: Poetry Hero

I cannot say exactly when I first discovered Norman MacCaig.  It may have been at the beginning of this year, but could well have been at the end of last.  I found him through a tweet.  Six months or more is a long time on Twitter, and when tweets get to a certain age, they're as stubbornly elusive as a missing person who wants to stay missed. But I know the tweet was left by poet  Jo Bell , the director of National Poetry Day, and whose wonderful blog can be found  here .  The link she left took me to an enthralling 25-minute interview with MacCaig.  I liked the man instantly.  I replied to Jo by saying what how charming MacCaig was.  He had a warm sparkle in his eye that only Scots seem to have access to.  He epitomised charismatic.  Unfortunately, embedding has been disabled on the video, but it can be found  here .  Fast forward to yesterday.  I was sat in Stanman's Kitche...
3 comments
Read more

A Scene From "Once Upon a Time in Anatolia' by Nuri Bilge Ceylan

Roughly halfway through Nuri Bilge Ceylan's 'Once Upon a Time in Anatolia' , after a long night in search of a body through remote Turkish hillsides, a weary parade of officials and the accused stop for sustenance.  Tiredness and confusion has muddled the mind of the suspect over the whereabouts of the body.  The search party, consisting of a police commissioner, doctor, prosecutor and driver, are all past the point of tiredness.  They've all written the night off and have resigned themselves to the fact that they're unlikely to return to town with either a confession or the missing body.  In the early hours of the morning, the  three-car parade stop for a break in a village and gather in the darkness of the local mayor's home.  All the men are physically and emotionally spent.  Even in the darkness, the stresses and strains of their working and personal lives are discernable through the shadows thrown on each of their faces.  Cracks ar...
Post a Comment
Read more