The 'C' Word

It's hard to miss from decorations in the shops and beginning of the relentless adverts on the telly, once again we're hurtling towards that time of year again. Yes, ladies and gentlemen in 6 weeks time it will be Christmas.

The season of madness and mayhem. I lose Norwich city centre to hoardes of stressed people. Grumpy children dragged behind desperately stressed parents. People buying presents neither wanted or needed, with money they don't have. Planning for a Christmas meal with family that won't appreciate the effort, being forced into close proximity with people they'd rather not spend time with. They're tired from the work they're holding on to, or from the work they're looking for so desperately. All with the concept of the 'perfect Christmas' being shoved down their throats.

So much for the season of good will. Bah humbug, I say.

Yes, my two years in retail has generated a severe level of loathing for Christmas songs, bordering on homicidal rage. Two years on, I still want to shove the CDs down Nobby's throat. I am desperate to apply a swathe of duct tape over Bing, and Goddess help the idiot who starts with Mistletoe and Wine. If you think my violence is a little over the top, try spending 12 weeks of your life listening to the same 2 Christmas CDs over the tannoy in a department store. I'm sure there's a clause in the Geneva Convention about such torture.

Needless to say, the main topic in the AHCP (Alternative Healthcare Practice) has been the onslaught of this festive time of year. Safe behind my desk, drinking coffee I've been able to talk to other people who are also bemused by this annual train wreck.

It's my first Christmas without my dad. Boy will be with his dad. I will be spending the season on my own. I used to feel that Christmas was the World's way of grinding my nose into the fact that I'm a single parent far away from my family. Please note the past tense.

The Great Ursus and his lovely and I talked about celebrating the Winter Solstice round theirs. On the 21st of December, we'll all rock up, bearing dishes prepared earlier, pile around the table, drinking, eating and being merry to celebrate the Longest Night. I'm already looking forward to it.

Boy and I, in recognition of our skinthood have decided on a competition. Rather than buy each other Stuff, we are going to find the most outrageous present for under £5.00 for each other. The more camp and tacky, the better. You should have seen Boy's face when I suggested it - he cracked up and mischief lurked in his dark eyes. We are going to have fun.