Oh Christmas tree
My Christmas tree is up. News of this has been met with mixtures of amazement, derision and gentle ribbing by my friends, but this is actually quite late by my standards: I once put the tree up on Hallowe'en. It looks great. Lots of red and gold and a bit of ribbon and new lights.
I am quietly looking forward to Christmas. I have no idea why: it'll be my poorest one since I was a student and, being a freelancer, any time off is not only a break from work but also a break from earning. My Christmas shopping plans have been scaled back to a level of extravagance that would have a battery chicken rolling its eyes and the train journey back to Yorkshire is costing me an arm or a leg. And yet... I can't wait.
Perhaps it's something to do with having a bit of a weird year.
I've surprised myself at how much I've been enthusiastic about the festive season. Usually I spend the preceding weeks pacing up and down shopping areas all over London, whingeing and cursing at the crowds of people and sneering shop assistants. I also be,oan the fact that my birthday is at Christmas, therefore stealing from me the feeling of having a birthday that people actually care about. But now, I think I'm finally over it.
This year, I actually went to watch the Christmas lights in the West End being turned on. And I made an 'ooh' noise when they were! I grinned like a fat bloke who's just bought a Mars bar when the seasonal red cups came out at Starbucks and have indulged in more dark cherry mochas than my purse strings would usually allow. What a capitalist pig I am!
Call it going soft in my old age, or desperately trying to find something positive, but I'm 'up for' Christmas in a way that I'm finding strange yet exciting.
This Christmas might just be the merriest yet.