The signs that Christmas is fast approaching are all around. The shops are bustling and full of decoration and gifts, our family are sending gift lists to and fro, yesterday saw the launch of our ‘Secret Santa’ in the office and today I had an email from a friend telling me that it’s only 34 days until Christmas. Oh yes, you read that correctly. I did a double take too.
So, love it or hate it, it really is that time of year again. Personally, I love it. I embrace Christmas fully and still see it through the eyes of my childhood. My Mum used to make our house up like Santa’s grotto, full of tinsel, paper chains, balloons and twinkling lights. The anticipation and excitement was fantastic and has stayed with me.
This year, however, the buzz seems to have passed over me and I haven’t been swept up in it yet. I’ve not really felt the excitement. Perhaps it’s age, or walking through Oxford Street every day on my way to and from work and having to fight my way through endless crowds – surely that’s enough to dampen anyone’s enthusiasm.
But today I started to go with it. I popped into a supermarket for a few everyday bits and came back with chestnuts, clementines, brandy laced mince pies, a Christmas edition of a food magazine and a tin of goose fat. How did that happen? Yes, yes, I know. I’m weak. I think I’ll go and console myself with a mince pie.
