Strangely quiet out there. The cornershop man mumbled some variation on his usual half-arsed greeting but I didn’t catch it. No-one else was about. Even the neighbours have disappeared. If this goes on for more than a couple of days, I’ll do something about it.
Christmas comes but once a year but we’ve got to stick it out the rest of the time. Falling just after the solar midwinter, it feeds you up before the seasonal midwinter. Let’s face it, this is a northern hemisphere festival. It feeds you up before the real cold and if you’re one of the rough sleepers who is finally allowed in church, it gives you a glimpse of heaven before kicking you back outside again. At least it does that.
Oh me of little faith I hear you complain! Far from it – I have no God to sustain my creed. Beset on all sides with doubting humanity, spent on consumption, I keep the faith alright
. I practice it keenly. Today I’ll be using a megaphone enhanced bicycle to spread the word about evil Santa getting all those little jobs done which don’t ever seem to get done thanks to the phone never stopping. Tomorrow I expect I’ll get a decent urban ride in. Probably best not to take the megaphone will me. I’ll get out and about, whilst most other folk stay in. I may wonder whether the monarch’s radio address will be cancelled due to bereavement this year and ponder how bad the ratio of regular folk to fanatical Christians has become at OccpuyLSX but generally it’ll be a day like any other Sunday from my childhood.
They were great. Shops didn’t open honestly. If you did buy something it was slightly naughty. If you could get what you wanted you could wait until Wednesday afternoon to be not be allowed to buy it again. One and a half days, twice a week, when commercial activity was disrupted in the name of having a bit of a rest up. My younger readers may know that Thatcher changed it. If you can’t remember her, think zombie terror attack and legendary party to come in Trafalgar Square, the saturday after she dies. One to catch, definitely. Closing days sits uncomfortably with the idea of over-consumption. They slowed the rhythm of domestic capitalism to a steadier beat. Everyone had a chance to relax, all at the same time, apart from the people serving those of us relaxing.
Peace and Quiet shall be my gifts to myself this year, aping my Mum’s oft repeated request. Not sure how much she got that from me. If I can’t get peace and quiet, my next favourite gift would be aliens landing nearby in a conspicuous shiny silvery and gold space craft and finding no-one willing to take them in. That would certainly upset the theological apple cart and probably quieten us all down a bit too.