Christmas Is Coming – Bah, Humbug

Scrooge and Bob Cratchit illustrated by John L...

Top Bloke

It’s around this time of the season that I begin to think that Scrooge was a really great bloke with some phenomenally forward thinking ideas.  Trying to shop at this time of year is a nightmare.  Every Consumer Temple from High Street to shopping mall is teeming with Consumer Zombies clutching three feet long lists and pushing two trollies at a time.  Newsflash:  The supermarket is not going to run out of food.  Your children will not run away if you don’t buy them a Playstation.  Just because someone is famous it will not make their perfume smell better. Get.A.Grip.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I am well into my Seasonal Eating Plan.  Said plan is not an alarming indication that I have problems with eating – far from it – but if you could only see the amount of food that I am expected to put away at my parents’ house you would understand the method.  Basically, The S.E.P begins in October, or thereabouts and it involves increasing my food intake, from what would be considered normal for a 6 footer with a healthy appetite, to being able to  accommodate the equivalent of a Sunday lunch for four at one sitting.

 My mother is a wonderful cook.  She is also a great believer in not being able to see the edge of the plate when she serves Christmas dinner.  It’s no good trying to ask for less – I’ve been trying for twenty-odd years but she suffers from seasonal selective-deafness disorder.   Various entreaties, such as “Please don’t give me too much”, or  “No thanks I’ve really had enough” are met with deliberate ignorance and another pound of goose.  It’s no use, either, if I offer to serve instead, she’s not having any of it.  Each plate of  food is a foot high  monument to culinary glory and no-one is going to thwart her.  OK, maybe a foot is a slight exaggeration but  I can guarantee that  Boxing Day will find me plundering the bathroom cabinet for Rennies and making fervent promises to myself that next year I will be in Spain/ France/ the Arctic Circle, eating  3 ordinary meals per day in a hotel room whilst  watching endless crap TV. And no shopping.
So, in the New Year,  I’ll be making my usual halfhearted resolutions to join a gym, a walking group and a therapy circle for Beleaguered Daughters.  Or making plans to emigrate.
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