STONE COLD HAVEN

I’ve always wondered why it took me so long to get blogging, and concluded that perhaps it’s just a character trait of mine that can sometimes make me my own worst enemy. I like writing as a way of expressing myself because it’s easier to logically organize my thoughts. I’ve recently been feeling a bit overwhelmed on several fronts – and what makes it a bit tedious is that it’s not one thing that I can grab by the scruff of the neck and sort out immediately, it’s more like loads of little things that have accumulated over time and have become the proverbial death of a thousand paper cuts.

So I decided to finally start blogging and where better to start than the madness that is Christmas. You know, I sometimes think the entire human collective in the western world has lost the plot on this one. Where I grew up, Christmas had something to do with the birth of Jesus and the celebration of that. As with most western countries, folks in the UK seem to have a dangerously misguided notion of what this day is all about.

You see it everywhere – from the constant advertisements and commercials on radio and TV about drinking and driving safely (talk about an oxymoron), health warnings about having safe sex, and in your face discounts and price reductions in any number of stores around town. The only mention of Jesus is perhaps from different shades of nativity plays folks endure their kids to – just for good measure. At one community church I know, last year they walked in a donkey and let the kids pat it and play with it – and that was the nativity play.

There’s also a certain level of disturbing madness about the need for gifts and presents. See, I don’t understand the logic of getting traumatized coz’ you’re broke, and doing stupid things like committing yourself to serious debt with loan sharks offering 1000% interest loans, so that you can get toys and stuff for the kids, socks for granddad, and a nice bottle of Sherry highlife for granma.

And all this hullabaloo for an anti-climax of one day that you have to spend with people you don’t want to necessarily be with. It’s amusing seeing how folks go out of their way to impress the in-laws (or is it out-laws), pretending to be all loving and family-centric, yet all year round, they bitch about the in-laws like a nonsense. It’s a day that has its only highlights as a meal of tired and dry turkey, cuddling around the fireplace and watching the Queen’s Christmas speech at 3.00 pm (someone needs to tell this woman to stop), and drinking like it’s going out of fashion, most folks don’t even make it past 5.00pm. And then you get to wonder why all the fuss.

I was watching news a couple of days ago when they were interviewing a lady about her husband who apparently has been held hostage in Iraq for 19 months. Her only lament was that it was sad that her husband was still in captivity and her young son will have no dad for a second Christmas. I don’t know about you, but there’s something wrong with that picture right there. Dads are not just for Christmas. Its almost like there’s a conspiracy that’s constantly fuelled this time of year to get out all the soppy stories of Christmas past that we’re supposed to reflect on and remind ourselves how important this day is.

No wonder you get people saying stupid things like “I think Christmas is a wonderful thing and I think it should be held every year” just because someone shoves a camera in their face to get an opinion of the festive season for the 6 o’clock news.