I’m beginning to think all time is mean time. Whatever happened to me-time? Life’s a tricky business, isn’t it?
‘Ooh, it’s been a rollercoaster’, that’s what they say on telly. Sounds about right; we’re strapped in – usually against our will – then hurtled manically about, unable to get off no matter how much we scream. If we get to the end without crying or wetting our pants in public, it’s deemed a great success. And let’s face it, if you’ve had children, you don’t escape those indignities anyway. Crumbs. What a ride, eh?
So here I am; my last blog post was about new year resolutions and now the Christmas lights are lit in town. On that note, permit me a teeny rant: what has happened to ‘proper’ Christmas? You know what I mean: chestnuts roasting, the Salvation Army banging out some carols and Santa arriving by sleigh?
‘THANK YOU IPSWICH’, yelled the singer onstage in Ipswich last night, punching the air as a few mums watched on with their wailing children, waiting for the Crimbo tree switch-on. The square, in the meantime, was ablaze with colour as toddlers waved their fluorescent plastic purchases. To be fair, nothing screams festive more to me than a strobing neon sword.
Grumpy old woman? Moi? Nah. But I do think I might have a new career planning proper Christmas markets. I’ll add that to next year’s to-do list, along with all the things I didn’t do on the last list. Anyway, there are still 39 days, 11 hours and 24 minutes left of this decade. Plenty of time. No one wants to peak too soon, right?