Tuesday, January 5, 2010
What Christmas is all about
Ah, Christmas, the time of the year when families across the country come together in order to remind themselves why they spend the rest of the year living apart.
It's a time for reminiscence as, prompted by all kinds of ingrained and regressive familial dynamics, we close our bedroom doors and vociferously tell our partners exactly how badly our brothers and sisters used to treat us, how selfish they are, and recall in painstaking detail every parental deficiency in our mothers and fathers.
It's a time for travel. For getting stuck in awful traffic, then having our cars break down on a deserted A-road, leaving us to marvel at the never-ending expanse of snow-clad winter wonderland.
It's a time for exercise as we carry armfuls of flimsy and inadequate bags from door to door, anxiously watching them break apart and tear, leaving a trail of soon to be unappreciated presents.
It's a time for children. As they taste that first chocolate coin on Christmas morning and scoff their ways through trifles, biscuits, crisps, sweets and Christmas puddings until they're so overwrought with e-numbers that we simply give up and slump defeatedly on armchairs in front of the television.
It's also a time for partners and lovers, who, neurotically trying to be polite to the family members they've spent their lives trying to get away from, come bedtime close the doors and eventually take it all out on each other.
But above all, it's a time for love, for shops all around the UK to love the money we give them as we buy overpriced presents that will, for the most part, be forgotten.
Yes, Happy Christmas to one and all.
It's a time for reminiscence as, prompted by all kinds of ingrained and regressive familial dynamics, we close our bedroom doors and vociferously tell our partners exactly how badly our brothers and sisters used to treat us, how selfish they are, and recall in painstaking detail every parental deficiency in our mothers and fathers.
It's a time for travel. For getting stuck in awful traffic, then having our cars break down on a deserted A-road, leaving us to marvel at the never-ending expanse of snow-clad winter wonderland.
It's a time for exercise as we carry armfuls of flimsy and inadequate bags from door to door, anxiously watching them break apart and tear, leaving a trail of soon to be unappreciated presents.
It's a time for children. As they taste that first chocolate coin on Christmas morning and scoff their ways through trifles, biscuits, crisps, sweets and Christmas puddings until they're so overwrought with e-numbers that we simply give up and slump defeatedly on armchairs in front of the television.
It's also a time for partners and lovers, who, neurotically trying to be polite to the family members they've spent their lives trying to get away from, come bedtime close the doors and eventually take it all out on each other.
But above all, it's a time for love, for shops all around the UK to love the money we give them as we buy overpriced presents that will, for the most part, be forgotten.
Yes, Happy Christmas to one and all.
#
posted by Fuse @ 2:37 AM 
Post a Comment