As I was thinking about how easy it is to buy Christmas presents over the internet I was standing in one of the longest queues in the world holding more items in my arms then I used to think was physically possible. The man in front of me stunk of bad BO and, annoyingly, every now and then he was getting in a huff because of the long cue and flapping his arms up and down for a few seconds which meant me getting a jet stream of his smell in to my face. The lady behind me had a small child who kept saying that she badly needed a "wee", and after the tenth time of this being repeated I felt the need to go for a "wee" as well.
I had been in this line now for over half an hour and the shop I was in only seemed to have one track to play over the speakers. If I heard WHAM'S "Last Christmas" one more time I would drop what I was doing and find the person responsible for playing the song continuously for thirty minutes and make it their last Christmas.
Now I'm a grumpy person when it comes to Christmas. I love Christmas. I love the build up, the actual day, the aftermath, the presents, and the rubbish Christmas specials on TV, the decorations, the food, the drink and so on…
So I'm not going to expect three ghosts to be paying me a visit on Christmas Eve. What I don't like about Christmas is the fact it arrives in October, at a time when Christmas is the last thing on my mind and the first thing on my mind is chasing trick or treaters down the road with a bat.
When I was young child I used to love Christmas even more. So much so that one Christmas I peed myself on the carpet by mistake and blamed the dog, and even though I would have to spend Christmas day with the dog giving me the evil eye, I didn't care, it was Christmas!
And, after all isn't that what Christmas is all about; the children? Forget the religious side of things for a moment, Christmas is all about children and watching them try and get to sleep on Christmas Eve. Because if they don't get to sleep, Santa won't come and visit. Watching them walk in to the living room on Christmas morning and seeing their face light up because of all the presents.
But Christmas is somewhat spoilt now. It certainly is for one of my friends who, when he was six years old went to sleep on Christmas Eve, but was woken up a few hours later by noises coming from downstairs. Thinking it was Santa he crept down to see, but when he opened the living room door and saw the local village priest giving his mother his own kind of midnight mass, Christmas was ruined for him for evermore.
So here's a pact I'd like to make for next year, and I invite everyone to join me. Next year, wait until mid December to put up your decorations and play your Christmas music, etc.
Because, as I stand in the long cue, nearly at the desk, I look to my left. I see that in the middle of the busy crowds buying all the latest, expensive, items in the shop, amongst the moaning adults who are complaining about how busy it is and the young teenagers with faces like thunder, bored and wanting to go home, there was a small girl. She must have been five or six years old, wrapped up in clothes for winter and wearing a Santa hat. She had the biggest grin on her face and she was looking up at a huge cardboard star that was hanging from the ceiling. As the store's Christmas Santa came walking past me stinking of smoke and beer while coughing like a granddad with a toffee stuck in his throat, she looked over and smiled and waved at him. The unconvincing Santa waved back and handed her a lollipop while straightening his fake beard. He then wobbled away, nearly falling in the "The Simpson"s' DVD movie stand. I looked towards the girl whose smile was beaming even wider now. I knew, for this moment in time at least, that she will believe in Christmas and enjoy it to it's full, because she believes that Santa is real and will be back to put presents under her tree on Christmas Eve. And her smile made me remember what Christmas was all about…
As I got to the desk and gave the shop assistant all my purchases, she scanned them all and told me the total cost, and I remembered that my wallet was sitting at home next to my computer desk with the internet switched on…bugger!
