Christmas. It seems miles away. Halloween hasn’t even passed us yet though shops flaunt Christmas decorations proudly. “Seasonal specials” crowd the menus of all the cafés and they make you pay 20p more for it just because “gingerbread” is in the name.
November arrives and Christmas music is everywhere, especially in stores. As if it were a marketing strategy in itself to make people buy more than usual, or do their Christmas shopping two months in advance. Then, perhaps it does. How would I know.
Lights are turned on even in the smallest of towns to make people forget the cold and the depressing weather. Every year children hope it will snow and they’ll have a “white Christmas”, and every year parents hope it won’t or the roads will be a complete nightmare. And every year we end up with a disgusting grey sky and wind and rain that make children sad. The roads are still utter nightmares but maybe less worse than they could have been. Except the snow could have given us all an excuse to stay home.
“Seasonal specials” crowd the menus of all the cafés
December arrives and Christmas trees are sold on the streets. So many trees cut down just when people talk about deforestation the most. What’s the point, they’re going to die on Boxing Day anyway. I walk down those streets with lights everywhere and people seem happy. Despite the rain, and the overpriced — well — everything, and pine needles everywhere that will block your hoover, and the incessant ringing of the classic Christmas songs that will not leave you in peace even when they’re not playing. Despite all of that, people seem happy. Christmas gives them a reason to be happy. Why not do that the rest of the year? Why be content of your life only when you are given an excuse to celebrate?
My reason to be happy has just arrived, he’s walking towards me and, guess what, his name is not Christmas.