Oh Christmas
I’m not sure when my dislike of Christmas set in. Was it as a child? I don’t think so. I remember the excitement and routine, the stockings and tinsel on my parent’s bed, the marble run set up in the upstairs hall, the chairs we were allocated, the annual argument over whether to eat lunch before or after presents. I have happy memories of Christmas. And yet. Everyone in my family is the same. We view it as a chore, a bore, an inescapable thing to get through. It depresses us and makes us want to run for the hills. This year I’m hiding in the arms of old friends whose family will swallow me…
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